STARR 
OF  THE 
DESERT 


B.M.BOWER 


OF 
DAVIS 


STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 


BY  B.  M.  BOWER 

GOOD  INDIAN 

THE  UPHILL  CLIMB 

THE  GRINGOS 

THE  RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

THE  FLYING  U's  LAST  STAND 

JEAN  OF  THE  LAZY  A 

THE  PHANTOM  HERD 

THE  HERITAGE  OF  THE  Sioux 


Here  was  a  girl  all  tired  out  and  a  long  way  from  home. 
FRONTISPIECE.     See  page  78. 


STARR,  OF  THE 
DESERT 


BY 

B.  M.  BOWER 


WITH  FRONTISPIECE  BY 
MONTE  CREWS 


BOSTON 

LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY 
1917 


Copyright,   1917, 
BY  LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COBIPANY 

All  rights  reserved 
Published,  April,  1917 


THE    COLONIAL   PRESS 
C.  H.  SIMOXDS   CO.,  BOSTON,  IT.  8.  A. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I  A  COMMONPLACE  MAN  WAS  PETER  ...      1 

II  IN  WHICH  PETER  DISCOVERS  A  WAY  OUT     .     15 

III  Vic  SHOULD  WORRY 33 

IV  STARR  WOULD  LIKE  TO  KNOW     ....     41 
V  A  GREASE  SPOT  IN  THE  SAND     ....     53 

VI    "  DARN  SUCH  A  COUNTRY  ! " 63 

VII  MOONLIGHT,  A  MAN  AND  A  SONG     ...     76 

VIII  HOLMAN  SOMMERS,  SCIENTIST      ....       97 

IX  PAT,  A  NICE  DOGGUMS      .     .     .     .     .     .  Ill 

X  THE  TRAIL  OF  SILVERTOWN  CORDS   .     .     .  128 

XI  THE  WIND  BLOWS  MANY  STRAWS     .     .     .  141 

XII  STARR  FINDS  SOMETHING  IN  A  SECRET  KOOM  156 

XIII  HELEN  MAY  SIGHS  FOR  EOMANCE     .     .     .168 

XIV  A  SHOT  FROM  THE  PINNACLE     ....  183 
XV    HELEN  MAY  UNDERSTANDS 195 

XVI  STARR  SEES  Too  LITTLE  OR  Too  MUCH  .     .  212 

XVII  « Is  HE  THEN  DEAD  —  MY  SON? »   ...  226 

XVIII    A  PAGE  OF  WRITING 242 

XIX  HOLMAN  SOMMERS  TURNS  PROPHET      .     .  260 

XX     STARR  DISCOVERS  THINGS 276 

XXI  THROUGH  THE  OPEN  SKYLIGHT  ....  287 

XXII  STARR  TAKES  ANOTHER  PRISONER     ...  300 


STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

CHAPTEB  ONE 

A    COMMONPLACE   MAN    WAS   PETER 

DAFFODILS  were  selling  at  two  bits  a  dozen  in 
the  flower  stand  beside  the  New  Era  Drug 
Store.  Therefore  Peter  Stevenson  knew  that  winter 
was  over,  and  that  the  weather  would  probably  "  settle." 
There  would  be  the  spring  fogs,  of  course  —  and  fog 
did  not  agree  with  Helen  May  since  that  last  spell  of 
grippe.  Peter  decided  that  he  would  stop  and  see  the 
doctor  again,  and  ask  him  what  he  thought  of  a  bunga 
low  out  against  the  hills  behind  Hollywood;  some 
thing  cheap,  of  course  —  and  within  the  five-cent  limit 
on  the  street  cars ;  something  with  a  sleeping  porch  that 
opened  upon  a  pleasanter  outlook  than  your  neighbor's 
back  yard.  If  Helen  May  would  then  form  the  habit 
of  riding  to  and  from  town  on  the  open  end  of  the  cars, 
that  would  help  considerably;  in  fact,  the  longer  the 
ride  the  better  it  would  be  for  Helen  May.  The  air 
was  sweet  and  clean  out  there  toward  the  hills.  It 


2  STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

would  be  better  for  Vic,  too.  It  would  break  up  that 
daily  habit  of  going  out  to  see  "  the  boys  "  as  soon  as  he 
had  swallowed  his  dinner. 

Peter  finished  refilling  the  prescription  on  which  he 
was  working,  and  went  out  to  see  if  he  were  needed  in 
front.  He  sold  a  lip-stick  to  a  pert  miss  who  from 
sheer  instinct  made  eyes  at  him,  and  he  wished  that 
Helen  May  had  such  plump  cheeks  —  though  he  thanked 
God  she  had  not  the  girl's  sophisticated  eyes.  (Yes, 
a  bungalow  out  there  against  the  hills  ought  to  do  a  lot 
for  Helen  May.)  He  glanced  up  at  the  great  clock 
and  unconsciously  compared  his  cheap  watch  with  it, 
saw  that  in  ten  minutes  he  would  be  free  for  the  day, 
and  bethought  him  to  telephone  the  doctor  and  make 
sure  of  the  appointment.  He  knew  that  Helen  May 
had  seen  the  doctor  at  noon,  since  she  had  given  Peter 
her  word  that  she  would  go,  and  since  she  never  broke 
a  promise.  He  would  find  out  just  what  the  doctor 
thought. 

When  he  returned  from  the  'phone,  a  fat  woman 
wanted  peroxide,  and  she  was  quite  sure  the  bottle  he 
offered  was  smaller  than  the  last  two-bit  bottle  she  had 
bought.  Peter  very  kindly  and  patiently  discussed  the 
matter  with  her,  and  smiled  and  bowed  politely  when 
she  finally  decided  to  try  another  place.  His  kidneys 
were  hurting  him  again.  He  wondered  if  Helen  May 


A  COMMONPLACE  MAN  3 

would  remember  that  he  must  not  eat  heavy  meats,  and 
would  get  something  else  for  their  dinner. 

He  glanced  again  at  the  clock.  He  had  four  minutes 
yet  to  serve.  He  wondered  why  the  doctor  had  seemed 
so  eager  to  see  him.  He  had  a  vague  feeling  of  un 
easiness,  though  the  doctor  had  not  spoken  more  than  a 
dozen  words.  At  six  he  went  behind  the  mirrored  par 
tition  and  got  his  topcoat  and  hat;  said  good  night  to 
such  clerks  as  came  in  his  way,  and  went  out  and 
bought  a  dozen  daffodils  from  the  Greek  flower-vendor. 
All  day  he  had  been  arguing  with  himself  because  of 
this  small  extravagance  which  tempted  him,  but  now 
that  it  was  settled  and  the  flowers  were  in  his  hand,  he 
was  glad  that  he  had  bought  them.  Helen  May  loved 
all  growing  things.  He  set  off  briskly  in  spite  of  his 
aching  back,  thinking  how  Helen  May  would  hover  over 
the  flowers  rapturously  even  while  she  scolded  him  for 
his  extravagance. 

Half  an  hour  later,  when  he  turned  to  leave  the 
doctor's  office,  he  left  the  daffodils  lying  forgotten  on  a 
chair  until  the  doctor  called  him  back  and  gave  them  to 
him  with  a  keen  glance  that  had  in  it  a  good  deal  of 
sympathy. 

"  You're  almost  as  bad  off  yourself,  old  man,"  he  said 
bluntly.  "  I  want  to  watch  those  kidneys  of  yours. 
Come  in  to-morrow  or  next  day  and  let  me  look  you  over. 


4  STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

Or  Sunday  will  do,  if  you  aren't  working  then.  I  don't 
like  your  color.  Here,  wait  a  minute.  I'll  give  you 
a  prescription.  You'd  better  stop  and  fill  it  before  you 
go  home.  Take  the  first  dose  before  you  eat  —  and 
come  in  Sunday.  Man,  you  don't  want  to  neglect  your 
self.  You—" 

"  Then  you  don't  think  Hollywood  —  ?"  Peter  took 
the  daffodils  and  began  absently  crumpling  the  waxed 
paper  around  them.  His  eyes,  when  he  looked  into 
the  doctor's  face,  were  very  wistful  arid  very,  very  tired. 

"  Hollywood !  "  The  doctor  snorted.  "  One  lung's 
already  badly  affected,  I  tell  you.  What  she's  got  to 
have  is  high,  dry  air  —  like  Arizona  or  ]STew  Mexico  or 
Colorado.  And  right  out  in  the  open  —  live  like  an  In 
jun  for  a  year  or  two.  Radical  change  of  climate  — 
change  of  living.  Another  year  of  office  work  will  kill 
her."  He  stopped  and  eyed  Peter  pityingly.  "  Pre 
disposition  —  and  then  the  grippe  —  her  mother  went 
that  way,  didn't  she  ?  " 

"  Yes/'  Peter  replied,  flat-toned  and  patient.  "  Yes, 
she  went  —  that  way." 

"  Well,  you  know  what  it  means.  Get  her  out  of 
here  just  as  quick  as  possible,  and  you'll  probably  save 
her.  Helen  May's  a  girl  worth  saving." 

"Yes,"  Peter  replied  flatly,  as  before.  "Yes  — 
she's  worth  saving." 


A  COMMONPLACE  MAN  5 

"  You  bet !  Well,  you  do  that.  And  don't  put  off 
coming  here  Sunday.  And  don't  forget  to  fill  that  pre 
scription  and  take  it  till  I  see  you  again." 

Peter  smiled  politely,  and  went  down  the  hall  to  the 
elevator,  and  laid  his  finger  on  the  bell,  and  waited  un 
til  the  steel  cage  paused  to  let  him  in.  He  walked  out 
and  up  Third  Street  and  waited  on  the  corner  of  Hill 
until  the  car  he  wanted  stopped  on  the  corner  to  let  a 
few  more  passengers  squeeze  on.  Peter  found  a  foot 
hold  on  the  back  platform  and  something  to  hang  to, 
and  adapted  himself  to  the  press  of  people  around  him, 
protecting  as  best  he  could  the  daffodils  with  the  fine, 
green  stuff  that  went  with  them  and  that  straggled  out 
and  away  from  the  paper.  Whenever  human  eyes  met 
his  with  a  light  of  recognition,  Peter  would  smile  and 
bow,  and  the  eyes  would  smile  back.  But  he  never 
knew  who  owned  the  eyes,  or  even  that  he  was  perform 
ing  one  of  the  little  courtesies  of  life. 

All  he  knew  was  that  Helen  May  was  going  the  way 
her  mother  had  gone,  and  that  the  only  way  to  prevent 
her  going  that  way  was  to  take  her  to  New  Mexico  or 
Colorado  or  Arizona ;  and  she  was  worth  saving  —  even 
the  doctor  had  been  struck  with  her  worth ;  and  a  bun 
galow  out  against  the  hills  wouldn't  do  at  all,  not  even 
with  a  sleeping  porch  and  the  open-air  ride  back  and 
forth  every  day.  Eadical  change  she  must  have.  Ari- 


6  STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

zona  or  New  Mexico  or  —  the  moon,  which  seemed  not 
much  more  remote  or  inaccessible. 

When  his  street  was  called  he  edged  out  to  the  steps 
and  climbed  down,  wondering  how  the  doctor  expected 
a  man  with  Peter's  salary  to  act  upon  his  advice. 
"  You  do  that !  "  said  the  doctor,  and  left  Peter  to  dis 
cover,  if  he  could,  how  it  was  to  be  done  without  money ; 
in  other  words,  had  blandly  required  Peter  to  perform 
a  modern  miracle. 

Helen  May  was  listlessly  setting  the  table  when  he 
arrived.  He  went  up  to  her  for  the  customary  little 
peck  on  the  cheek  which  passes  for  a  kiss  among  rel 
atives,  and  Helen  May  waved  him  off  with  a  half  smile 
that  was  unlike  her  customary  cheerfulness. 

"  Pve  quit  kissing,"  she  said.     "  It's  unsanitary." 

"  What  did  the  doctor  tell  you,  Babe  ?  You  went  to 
see  him,  didn't  you  ?  "  Peter  managed  a  smile  —  busi 
ness  policy  had  made  smiling  a  habit  —  while  he  un 
wound  the  paper  from  around  the  daffodils. 

"  Dad,  I've  told  you  and  told  you  not  to  buy  flowers ! 
Oh,  golly,  aren't  they  beautiful !  But  you  mustn't. 
I'm  going  to  get  my  salary  cut,  on  the  first.  They  say 
business  doesn't  warrant  my  present  plutocratic  income. 
Five  a  week  less,  Bob  said  it  would  be.  That'll  pull 
the  company  back  to  a  profit-sharing  basis,  of  course !  " 

"  Lots  of  folks  are  losing  their  jobs  altogether,"  Peter 


A  COMMONPLACE  MAN  7 

reminded  her  apathetically.     "  What  did  the  doctor  say 
about  your  cough,  Babe  ?  " 

"  Oh,  he  told  me  to  quit  working.  Why  is  it  doc 
tors  never  have  any  brains  about  such  things  ?  Charge 
a  person  two  dollars  or  so  for  telling  him  to  do  whafs 

impossible.     What    does   he   think   I    am  —  a   movie 

?•• 
^^^ . 

She  turned  away  from  his  faded,  anxious  eyes  that 
hurt  her  with  their  realization  of  his  helplessness. 
There  was  a  red  spot  on  either  cheek  —  the  rose  of 
dread  which  her  father  had  watched  heart-sinkingly. 
"  I  know  what  he  thinks  is  the  matter,"  she  added  de 
fiantly.  "But  that  doesn't  make  it  so.  It's  just  the 
grippe  hanging  on.  I've  felt  a  lot  better  since  the 
weather  cleared  up.  It's  those  raw  winds  —  and  half 
the  time  they  haven't  had  the  steam  on  at  all  in  the 
mornings,  and  the  office  is  like  an  ice-box  till  the  sun 
warms  it." 

"  Vic  home  yet? "  Peter  abandoned  the  subject  for 
one  not  much  more  cheerful.  Vic,  fifteen  and  fully  al>- 
sorbed  in  his  own  activities,  was  more  and  more  becom 
ing  a  sore  subject  between  the  two. 

"  'No.  I  called  up  Ed's  mother  just  before  you  came, 
but  he  hadn't  been  there.  She  thought  Ed  was  over 
here  with  Vic.  I  don't  know  where  else  to  ask." 

"  Did  you  try  the  gym  ? " 


8  STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

"  No.  He  won't  go  there  any  more.  They  got  after 
him  for  something  he  did  —  broke  a  window  somehow. 
There's  no  use  fussing,  dad.  He'll  come  when  he's 
hungry  enough.  He's  broke,  so  he  can't  eat  down 
town." 

Peter  sighed  and  went  away  to  brush  his  thin,  gray 
ing  hair  carefully  over  his  bald  spot,  while  Helen  May 
brewed  the  tea  and  made  final  preparations  for  dinner. 
The  daffodils  she  arranged  with  little,  caressing  pulls 
and  pats  in  a  tall,  slim  vase  of  plain  glass,  and  placed 
the  vase  in  the  center  of  the  table,  just  as  Peter  knew 
she  would  do. 

"  Oh,  but  you're  sweet !  "  she  said,  and  stooped  with 
her  face  close  above  them.  "  I  wish  I  could  lie  down 
in  a  whole  big  patch  of  you  and  just  look  at  the  sky 
and  at  you  nodding  and  perking  all  around  me  —  and 
not  do  a  living  thing  all  day  but  just  lie  there  and  soak 
in  blue  and  gold  and  sweet  smells  and  silence." 

Peter,  coming  to  the  open  doorway,  turned  and  tip 
toed  back  as  though  he  had  intruded  upon  some  secret, 
and  stood  irresolutely  smoothing  his  hair  down  with  the 
flat  of  his  hand  until  she  called  him  to  come  and  eat. 
She  was  cheerful  as  ever  while  she  served  him  scrupu 
lously.  She  smiled  at  him  now  and  then,  tilting  her 
head  because  the  daffodils  stood  between  them.  She 
said  no  more  about  the  doctor's  advice,  or  the  problem  of 


A  COMMONPLACE  MAN  9 

poverty.  She  did  not  cough,  and  the  movements  of  her 
thin,  well-shaped  hands  were  sure  and  swift.  More 
than  once  she  made  a  pause  while  she  pulled  a  daffo 
dil  toward  her  and  gazed  adoringly  into  its  yellow  cup. 

Peter  might  have  been  reassured,  were  it  not  for  the 
telltale  flush  on  her  cheeks  and  the  unnatural  shine  in 
her  eyes.  As  it  was,  every  fascinating  little  whimsy  of 
hers  stabbed  him  afresh  with  the  pain  of  her  need  and 
of  his  helplessness.  Arizona  or  New  Mexico  or  Colo 
rado,  the  doctor  had  said ;  and  Peter  knew  that  it  must 
be  so.  And  he  with  his  druggist's  salary  and  his  pitiful 
two  hundred  dollars  in  the  savings  bank!  And  with 
the  druggist's  salary  stopping  automatically  the  moment 
he  stopped  reporting  for  duty !  Peter  was  neither  an 
atheist  nor  a  socialist,  yet  he  was  close  to  cursing  his 
God  and  his  country  whenever  Helen  May  smiled  at 
him  around  the  dozen  daffodils. 

"Your  insurance  is  due  the  tenth,  dad,"  she  re 
marked  irrelevantly  when  they  had  reached  the  dessert 
stage  of  cream  puffs  from  the  delicatessen  nearest  Helen 
May's  work.  "  Why  don't  you  cut  it  down  ?  It's  sin 
ful,  the  amount  of  money  we've  paid  out  for  insurance. 
You  need  a  new  suit  this  spring.  And  the  differ 
ence  — " 

"  I  don't  see  what's  wrong  with  this  suit,"  Peter  ob 
jected,  throwing  out  his  scrawny  chest  and  glancing 


10         STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

down  his  front  with  a  prejudiced  eye,  refusing  to  see 
any  shabbiness.  "A  little  cleaning  and  pressing, 
maybe  — " 

"  A  little  suit  of  that  new  gray  everybody's  wearing 
these  days,  you  mean,"  she  amended  relentlessly. 
"  Don't  argue,  dad.  You've  got  to  have  a  suit.  And 
that  old  insurance  — " 

"  Jitneys  are  getting  thicker  every  day,"  Peter  con 
tended  in  feeble  jest.  "  A  man  needs  to  be  well  in 
sured  in  this  town.  There's  Vic  —  if  anything  hap 
pened,  he's  got  to  be  educated  just  the  same.  And  by 
the  endowment  plan,  in  twelve  years  more  I'll  have  a 
nice  little  lump.  It's  —  on  account  of  the  endowment, 
Babe.  I  don't  want  to  sell  drugs  all  my  life." 

"  Just  the  same,  you're  going  to  have  a  new  suit." 
Helen  May  retrenched  herself  behind  the  declaration. 
"  And  it's  going  to  be  gray.  And  a  gray  hat  with  a 
dove-colored  band  and  the  bow  in  the  back.  And  tan 
shoes,"  she  added  implacably,  daintily  lifting  the  roof 
off  her  cream  puff  to  see  how  generous  had  been  the 
filling. 

"  Who  ?  Me  ?  "  Vic  launched  himself  in  among 
them  and  slid  spinelessly  into  his  chair  as  only  a  lanky 
boy  can  slide.  "  Happy  thought !  Only  I'll  have  bot 
tle  green  for  mine.  A  fellow  stepped  on  my  roof  this 
afternoon,  so — " 


A  COMMONPLACE  MAN  11 

"  You'll  wear  a  cap  then  —  or  go  bareheaded  and 
claim  it's  to  make  your  hair  grow."  Helen  May  re 
garded  him  coldly.  "  Lots  of  fellows  do.  You  don't 
get  a  single  new  dud  before  the  fourth,  Vic  Stevenson." 

"  Oh,  don't  I  ? "  Vic  drawled  with  much  sarcasm, 
and  pulled  two  dollars  from  his  trousers  pocket,  dis 
playing  them  with  lofty  triumph.  "  I  get  a  new  hat 
to-morrow,  Miss  Stingy." 

"  Vic,  where  did  you  get  that  money  ?  "  Helen  May's 
eyes  flamed  to  the  battle.  "  Have  you  been  staying 
out  of  school  and  hanging  around  those  picture  stu 
dios?" 

"  Yup  —  at  two  dollars  per  hang,"  Vic  mouthed, 
spearing  a  stuffed  green  pepper  dexterously.  "  Fifty 
rehearsals  for  two  one-minute  scenes  of  honorable  col 
lege  gangs  honorably  hailing  the  hee-ro.  Waugh ! 
Where'd  you  get  these  things  —  or  did  the  cat  bring 
it  in?  Stuffed  with  laundry  soap,  if  you  ask  me. 
Why  don't  you  try  that  new  place  on  Spring  ? " 

"  Vic  Stevenson !  "  Helen  May  began  in  true  sis 
terly  disapprobation.  "  Is  that  getting  you  anywhere 
in  your  studies?  A  few  more  days  out  of  school, 
and  — " 

Peter's  thoughts  turned  inward.  He  did  not  even 
hear  the  half  playful,  half  angry  dispute  between  these 
two.  Vic  was  a  heady  youth,  much  given  to  rebelling 


12         STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

against  the  authority  of  Helen  May  who  bullied  or 
wheedled  as  her  mood  and  the  emergency  might  impel, 
as  sisters  do  the  world  over.  Peter  was  thinking  of 
his  two  hundred  dollars  saved  against  disaster;  and  a 
third  of  that  to  go  for  life  insurance  on  the  tenth,  which 
was  just  one  row  down  on  the  calendar;  and  Helen 
May  going  the  way  her  mother  had  gone  —  unless  she 
lived  out  of  doors  "  like  an  Indian  "  in  Arizona  or  — 
Peter's  mind  refused  to  name  again  the  remote,  inac 
cessible  places  where  Helen  May  might  evade  the  pen 
alty  of  being  the  child  of  her  mother  and  of  poverty. 
Gray  hat  for  Peter  or  bottle-green  hat  for  Vic  — 
what  did  it  matter  if  neither  of  them  ever  again  owned 
a  hat,  if  Helen  May  must  stay  here  in  the  city  and 
face  the  doom  that  had  been  pronounced  upon  her  ? 
What  did  anything  matter,  if  Babe  died  and  left  him 
plodding  along  alone?  Vic  did  not  occur  to  him  con 
solingly.  Vic  was  a  responsibility;  a  comfort  he  was 
not.  Like  many  men,  Peter  could  not  seem  to  under 
stand  his  son  half  as  well  as  he  understood  his  daugh 
ter.  He  could  not  see  why  Vic  should  frivol  away  his 
time;  why  he  should  have  all  those  funny  little  con 
ceits  and  airs  of  youth;  why  he  should  lord  it  over 
Helen  May  who  was  every  day  proving  her  efficiency 
and  her  strength  of  character  anew.  If  Helen  May 
went  the  way  her  mother  had  gone,  Peter  felt  that  he 


A  COMMONPLACE  MAN  13 

would  be  alone,  and  that  life  would  be  quite  bare  and 
bleak  and  empty  of  every  incentive  toward  bearing  the 
little  daily  burdens  of  existence. 

He  got  up  with  his  hand  going  instinctively  to  his 
back  to  ease  the  ache  there,  and  went  out  upon  the  porch 
and  stood  looking  drearily  down  upon  the  asphalted 
street,  where  the  white  paths  of  speeding  automobiles 
slashed  the  dusk  like  runaway  sunbeams  on  a  frolic. 
Then  the  street  lights  winked  and  sputtered  and  began 
to  glow  with  white  brilliance. 

Arizona  or  "New  Mexico  or  Colorado!  Peter  knew 
what  the  doctor  had  in  mind.  Vast  plains,  unpeopled, 
pure,  immutable  in  their  calm;  stars  that  came  down 
at  night  and  hung  just  over  your  head,  making  the 
darkness  alive  with  their  bright  presence;  a  little  cot 
tage  hunched  against  a  hill,  a  candle  winking  cheerily 
through  the  window  at  the  stars;  the  cries  of  night 
birds,  the  drone  of  insects,  the  distant  howling  of  a 
coyote;  far  away  on  the  boundary  of  your  possessions, 
a  fence  of  barbed  wire  stretching  through  a  hollow  and 
up  over  a  hill;  distance  and  quiet  and  calm,  be  it  day 
or  night.  And  Helen  May  coming  through  the  sun 
light,  riding  a  gentle-eyed  pony;  Helen  May  with  her 
deep-gold  hair  tousled  in  the  wind,  and  with  health 
dancing  in  her  eyes  that  were  the  color  of  a  ripe  chest 
nut,  odd  contrast  to  her  hair ;  Helen  May  with  the  little 


14         STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

red  spots  gone  from  her  cheek  bones,  and  with  tanned 
skin  and  freckles  on  her  nose  and  a  laugh  on  her  lips, 
coming  up  at  a  gallop  with  the  sun  behind  her,  and  some 
thing  more ;  with  sickness  behind  her  and  the  drudgery 
of  eight  hours  in  an  office,  and  poverty  and  unhappiness. 
And  Vic  —  yes,  Vic  in  overalls  and  a  straw  hat,  growing 
up  to  be  the  strong  man  he  never  would  be  in  the  city. 

Like  many  another  commonplace  man  of  the  towns, 
for  all  his  colorless  ways  and  his  thinning  hair  and  his 
struggle  against  poverty,  Peter  was  something  of  a 
dreamer.  And  like  all  the  rest  of  us  who  build  our 
dreams  out  of  wishes  and  hopes  and  maybes,  Peter  had 
not  a  single  fact  to  use  in  his  foundation.  Arizona, 
New  Mexico  or  Colorado  —  to  Peter  they  were  but 
symbols  of  all  those  dear  unattainable  things  he  longed 
for.  And  that  he  longed  for  them,  not  for  himself  but 
for  another  who  was  very  dear  to  him,  only  made  the 
longing  keener  and  more  tragic. 


CHAPTEK  TWO 

IN"    WHICH    PETER   DISCOVERS    A   WAY    OUT 

WE  are  always  exclaiming  over  the  strange  way 
in  which  events  link  themselves  together  in 
chains;  and  when  the  chains  bind  us  to  a  certain  con 
dition  or  environment,  we  are  in  the  habit  of  blandly 
declaring  ourselves  victims  of  the  force  of  circum 
stances.  By  that  rule,  Peter  found  himself  being 
swept  into  a  certain  channel  of  thought  about  which 
events  began  at  once  to  link  themselves  into  a  chain 
which  drew  him  perforce  into  a  certain  path  that  he 
must  follow.  Or  it  may  have  been  his  peculiar  single- 
mindedness  that  forced  him  to  follow  the  path;  how 
ever  that  may  be,  circumstances  made  it  easy. 

If  Helen  May  worried  about  her  cough  and  her  fail 
ing  energy,  she  did  not  mention  the  fact  again;  but 
that  was  Helen  May's  way,  and  Peter  was  not  com 
forted  by  her  apparent  dismissal  of  the  subject.  So 
far  as  he  could  see  she  was  a  great  deal  more  inclined 
to  worry  over  Vic,  who  refused  to  stay  in  school  when 
he  could  now  and  then  earn  a  dollar  or  two  acting  in 
"  mob  scenes "  for  some  photoplay  company  out  in 


16         STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

Hollywood.  He  did  not  spend  the  money  wisely; 
Helen  May  declared  that  he  was  better  off  with  empty 
pockets. 

Ordinarily  Peter  would  have  taken  Vic's  rebellion 
seriously  enough  to  put  a  stop  to  it.  He  did  half 
promise  Helen  May  that  he  would  notify  all  the  di 
rectors  he  could  get  hold  of  not  to  employ  Vic  in  any 
capacity;  even  to  "chase  him  off  the  studio  grounds", 
as  Helen  May  put  it.  But  he  did  not,  because  chance 
threw  him  a  bit  of  solid  material  on  which  to  rebuild 
his  air  castle  for  Helen  May. 

He  was  edging  his  way  down  the  long  food  counter, 
collecting  his  lunch  of  rice  pudding,  milk  and  whole 
wheat  bread  in  a  cafeteria  on  Hill  Street.  He  was 
late,  and  there  was  no  unoccupied  table  to  be  had,  so 
he  finally  set  his  tray  down  where  a  haggard-featured 
woman  clerk  had  just  eaten  hastily  her  salad  and  pie. 
A  brown-skinned  young  fellow  with  country  manners 
and  a  range-fostered  disposition  to  talk  with  any  one 
who  tarried  within  talking  distance,  was  just  unload 
ing  his  tray  load  of  provender  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
table.  He  looked  across  at  Peter's  tray,  grinned  at  the 
meager  luncheon,  and  then  looked  up  into  Peter's  face 
with  friendliness  chasing  the  amusement  from  his  eyes. 

"  Golly  gee !  There's  a  heap  of  difference  in  our  ap 
petites,  from  the  looks  of  our  layouts,"  he  began  amia- 


PETER  DISCOVERS  A  WAY  OUT    17 

bly.  "  I'm  hungry  as  a  she-wolf,  myself.  Hope  they 
don't  make  me  wash  the  dishes  when  I'm  through; 
I'm  always  kinda  scared  of  these  grab-it-and-go  joints. 
I  always  feel  like  making  a  sneak  when  nobody's  look 
ing,  for  fear  I'll  be  called  back  to  clean  up." 

Peter  smiled  and  handed  his  tray  to  a  waiter.  "  I 
wish  I  could  eat  a  meal  like  that,"  he  confessed  po 
litely. 

"  Well,  you  could  if  you  lived  out  more  in  the  open. 
Town  kinda  gits  a  person's  appetite.  Why,  first  time 
I  come  in  here  and  went  down  the  chute  past  the  feed 
troughs,  why  it  took  two  trays  to  pack  away  the  grub  I 
seen  and  wanted.  Lookout  lady  on  the  high  stool,  she 
give  me  two  tickets  —  thought  there  was  two  of  me, 
I  reckon.  But  I  ain't  eatin'  the  way  I  was  then* 
Town's  kinda  gittin'  me  like  it's  got  the  rest  of  you. 
Last  night  I  come  pretty  near  rnakin'  up  my  mind  to 
go  back.  Little  old  shack  back  there  in  the  grease- 
wood  didn't  look  so  bad,  after  all.  Only  I  do  hate  like 
sin  to  bach,  and  a  fellow  couldn't  take  a  woman  out 
there  in  the  desert  to  live,  unless  he  had  money  to  make 
her  comfortable.  So  I'm  going  to  give  up  my  home 
stead  —  if  I  can  find  some  easy  mark  to  buy  out  my 
relinquishment.  Don't  want  to  let  it  slide,  yuh  see, 
'cause  the  improvements  is  worth  a  little  something, 
and  the  money' d  come  handy  right  now,  helpin'  me 


18         STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

into  something  here.  There's  a  chance  to  buy  into  a 
nice  little  service  station,  fellow  calls  it  —  where  auto 
mobiles  stop  to  git  pumped  up  with  air  and  gasoline 
and  stuff.  If  I  can  sell  my  improvements,  I'll  buy  in 
there.  Looks  foolish  to  go  back,  once  I  made  up  my 
mind  to  quit." 

He  ate  while  he  talked,  and  he  talked  because  he  had 
the  simple  mind  of  a  child  and  must  think  out  loud  in 
order  to  be  perfectly  at  ease.  He  had  that  hunger  for 
speech  which  comes  sometimes  to  men  who  have  lived 
far  from  their  kind.  Peter  listened  to  him  vaguely  at 
first;  then  avidly,  with  an  inner  excitement  which  his 
mild,  expressionless  face  hid  like  a  mask. 

"  I  was  getting  kinda  discouraged  when  my  horse 
up  7n  died/'  the  eater  went  on.  "  And  then  when  some 
durn  greaser  went  7n  stole  my  burro,  I  jest  up  'n  sold 
my  saddle  and  a  few  head  uh  sheep  I  had,  and  pulled 
out.  New  Mexico  ranching  is  all  right  for  them  that 
likes  it,  but  excuse  me!  I  want  to  live  where  I  can 
see  a  movie  once  in  a  while,  anyhow."  He  stopped 
for  the  simple,  primitive  reason  that  he  had  filled  his 
mouth  to  overflowing  with  food,  so  that  speech  was  for 
the  moment  a  physical  impossibility. 

Peter  sipped  his  glass  of  milk,  and  his  thoughts  raced 
back  and  forth  between  the  door  of  opportunity  that 
stood  ajar,  and  the  mountain  of  difficulty  which  he 


PETER  DISCOVERS  A  WAY  OUT     19 

must  somehow  move  by  his  mental  strength  alone  be 
fore  he  and  his  might  pass  through  that  door. 

"  Ah  —  how  much  do  you  value  your  improvements 
at  ? "  he  asked.  His  emotion  was  so  great  that  his 
voice  refused  to  carry  it,  and  so  was  flat  and  as  expres 
sionless  as  his  commonplace  face. 

"  Well,"  gurgled  the  young  man,  sluicing  down  his 
food  with  coffee,  "  it's  pretty  hard  to  figure  exactly. 
I've  got  a  good  little  shack,  you  see,  and  there's  a  spring 
right  close  handy  by.  Springs  is  sure  worth  money  in 
that  country,  water  being  scurse  as  it  is.  There's  a 
plenty  for  the  house  and  a  few  head  of  stock;  well, 
in  a  good  wet  year  a  person  could  raise  a  little  garden, 
maybe;  few  radishes  and  beans,  and  things  like  that. 
But  uh  course,  that  can't  hardly  be  called  an  improve 
ment,  'cause  it  was  there  when  I  took  the  place.  A 
greaser,  he  had  the  land  fenced  and  was  usin'  the  spring 
'n'  range  like  it  was  his  own,  and  most  folks,  they  was 
scared  to  file  on  it.  But  she's  sure  filed  on  now,  and 
I've  got  six  weeks  yet  before  it  can  be  jumped. 

"Well,  there's  a  shed  for  stock,  and  a  pretty  fair 
brush  corral,  and  I  built  me  a  pretty  fair  road  in  to  the 
place  —  about  a  mile  off  the  main  road,  it  is.  I  done 
that  odd  times  the  year  I  was  on  the  place.  The  sheep 
I  sold;  sheep's  a  good  price  now.  I  only  had  seven 
teen —  coyotes  and  greasers,  they  kep'  stealin'  'em  on 


20         STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

me,  or  I'd  V  had  more.  I'd  'a'  lost  'em  all,  I  guess, 
if  it  hadn't  been  for  Loma  —  dog  I  got  with  me. 
Them—" 

Peter  looked  at  his  watch  in  that  furtive  way  which 
polite  persons  employ  when  time  presses  and  a  com 
panion  is  garrulous.  He  had  finished  his  rice  pudding 
and  his  milk,  and  in  five  minutes  he  would  be  expected 
to  hang  up  his  hat  behind  the  mirrored  partition  of 
the  New  Era  Drug  Store  and  walk  out  smilingly  to 
serve  the  New  Era  customers,  patrons,  the  New  Era 
called  them.  In  five  minutes  he  must  be  on  duty,  yet 
Peter  felt  that  his  very  life  depended  upon  bringing 
this  wordy  young  man  to  a  point  in  his  monologue. 

"  If  you  will  come  to  the  New  Era  Drug  Store,  at 
six  o'clock,"  said  Peter,  "  I  shall  be  glad  to  talk  with 
you  further  about  this  homestead  of  yours.  I  —  ah  — 
have  a  friend  who  has  an  idea  of  —  ah  —  locating 
somewhere  in  Arizona  or  New  Mexico  or  Colorado  — " 
Peter  could  name  them  now  without  that  sick  feeling 
of  despair  " —  and  he  might  be  interested.  But,"  he 
added  hastily,  "  he  could  not  afford  to  pay  very  much 
for  a  place.  Still,  if  your  price  is  low  enough  — " 

"  Oh,  I  reckon  we  can  git  together  on  the  price,"  the 
young  man  said  cheerfully,  as  Peter  rose  and  picked  up 
his  check.  "  I'll  be  there  at  six,  sure  as  shootin'  cats  in 
a  bag.  I  know  where  the  New  Era's  at.  I  went  in 


PETER  DISCOVERS  A  WAY  OUT    21 

there  last  night  and  got  something  to  stop  my  tooth 
achin'.  Ached  like  the  very  devil  for  a  while,  but  that 
stuff  sure  fixed  her." 

Peter  smiled  and  bowed  and  went  his  way  hurriedly, 
his  pale  lips  working  nervously  with  the  excitement 
that  filled  him.  The  mountain  of  difficulty  was  there, 
implacably  blocking  the  way.  But  beyond  was  the  door 
of  opportunity,  and  the  door  was  ajar.  There  must, 
thought  Peter,  be  some  way  to  pass  the  mountain  and 
reach  the  door. 

Helen  May  telephoned  that  she  meant  to  pick  out 
that  gray  suit  for  him  that  evening.  Since  it  was  Sat 
urday,  the  stores  would  be  open,  and  there  was  a  sale 
on  at  Hecheimer's.  She  had  seen  some  stunning  grays 
in  the  window,  one-third  off.  And  would  he.  ... 

Peter's  voice  was  almost  irritable  when  he  told  her 
that  he  had  a  business  engagement  and  could  not  meet 
her.  And  he  added  the  information  that  he  would 
probably  eat  down  town,  as  he  did  not  know  how  long 
he  would  be  detained.  Helen  May  was  positively  for 
bidden  to  do  anything  at  all  about  the  suit  until  he  had 
a  chance  to  talk  with  her.  After  which  unprecedented 
firmness  Peter  left  the  'phone  hurriedly,  lest  Helen 
May  should  laugh  at  his  authority  and  lay  down  a 
law  of  her  own,  which  she  was  perfectly  capable  of 
doing. 


22         STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

At  five  minutes  to  six  the  young  man  presented  him 
self  at  the  New  Era,  and  waited  for  Peter  at  the  soda 
fountain,  with  a  lemon  soda  and  a  pretty  girl  to  smile 
at  his  naive  remarks.  Peter's  heart  had  given  a  jump 
and  a  flutter  when  the  young  man  walked  in,  fearing 
some  one  else  might  snap  at  the  chance  to  buy  a  relin- 
quishment  of  a  homestead  in  New  Mexico.  And  yet, 
how  did  Peter  expect  to  buy  anything  of  the  sort  ?  If 
Peter  knew,  he  kept  the  knowledge  in  the  back  of  his 
mind,  telling  himself  that  there  would  be  some  way  out. 

He  went  with  the  young  man,  whose  name  he  learned 
was  Johnny  Calvert,  and  had  dinner  with  him  at  the 
cafeteria  where  they  had  met  at  noon.  Johnny  talked 
a  great  deal,  ate  a  great  deal,  and  unconsciously  con 
vinced  Peter  that  he  was  an  honest  young  man  who  was 
exactly  what  he  represented  himself  to  be.  He  had  pa 
pers  which  proved  his  claim  upon  three  hundred  and 
twenty  acres  of  land  in  Dona  Ana  County,  New  Mex 
ico.  He  also  had  a  map  upon  which  the  location  of  his 
claim  was  marked  with  a  pencil.  Malpais,  he  said,  was 
the  nearest  railroad  point ;  not  much  of  a  point,  but  you 
could  ride  there  and  back  in  a  day,  if  you  got  up  early 
enough  in  the  morning. 

Peter  asked  about  the  climate  and  the  altitude. 
Johnny  was  a  bit  hazy  about  the  latter,  but  it  was  close 
to  mountains,  he  said,  and  it  was  as  high  as  El  Paso, 


PETER  DISCOVERS  A  WAY  OUT    23 

anyway,  maybe  higher.  The  climate  was  like  all  the 
rest  of  the  country,  coming  in  streaks  of  good  and  bad. 
Peter,  gaining  confidence  as  Johnny  talked,  spoke  of  his 
daughter  and  her  impending  doom,  and  Johnny,  in 
stantly  grasping  the  situation,  waxed  eloquent.  Why, 
that  would  be  just  the  place,  he  declared.  Dry  as  a 
bone,  the  weather  was  most  of  the  year ;  hot  —  the  lung 
ers  liked  it  hot  and  dry,  he  knew.  And  when  it  was 
cold,  it  was  sure  bracing,  too.  Why,  the  country  was 
alive  with  health-seekers.  At  that,  most  of  'em  got  well 
—  them  that  didn't  come  too  late. 

That  last  sentence  threw  Peter  into  a  panic.  What  if 
he  dawdled  along  and  kept  Helen  May  waiting  until  it 
was  too  late?  By  that  time  I  think  Peter  had  pretty 
clearly  decided  how  he  was  to  remove  the  mountain  of 
difficulty.  He  must  have,  or  he  would  not  have  had 
the  courage  to  drive  the  bargain  to  a  conclusion  in  so 
short  a  time. 

Drive  it  he  did,  for  at  nine  o'clock  he  let  himself  into 
the  place  he  called  home  and  startled  Helen  May  with 
the  announcement  that  he  had  bought  her  a  claim  in 
ISTew  Mexico,  where  she  was  to  live  out  of  doors  like  an 
Indian  and  get  over  that  cough,  and  grow  strong  as  any 
peasant  woman;  and  where  Vic  was  going  to  keep  out 
of  mischief  and  learn  to  amount  to  something.  He  did 
not  say  what  the  effect  would  be  upon  himself;  Peter 


24         STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

was  not  accustomed  to  considering  himself  except  as  a 
provider  of  comfort  for  others. 

Helen  May  did  not  notice  the  omission.  "  Bought  a 
claim  ? "  she  repeated  and  added  grimly :  "  What 
with?" 

"With  two  hundred  dollars  cash,"  Peter  replied, 
smiling  queerly.  "  It's  all  settled,  Babe,  and  the  claim 
is  to  stand  in  your  name.  Everything  is  attended  to  but 
the  legal  signatures  before  a  notary.  I  was  glad  my 
money  was  in  the  all-night  bank,  because  I  was  not  com 
pelled  to  wait  until  Monday  to  get  it  for  young  Calvert. 
You  will  have  the  relinquishment  of  his  right  to  the 
claim,  Babe,  and  a  small  adobe  house  with  sheds  and 
yards  and  a  good  spring  of  living  water.  In  building 
up  the  place  into  a  profitable  investment  you  will  be 
building  up  your  health,  which  is  the  first  and  greatest 
consideration.  I  —  you  must  not  go  the  way  your 
mother  went.  You  will  not,  because  you  will  live  in  the 
open  and  throw  off  the  —  ah  —  incipient  — " 

"  Dad  —  Stevenson! "  Helen  May  was  sitting  with 
her  arms  lying  loose  in  her  lap,  palms  upward.  Her 
lips  had  been  loose  and  parted  a  little  with  the  slackness 
of  blank  amazement.  In  those  first  awful  minutes  she 
really  believed  that  her  father  had  suddenly  lost  his 
mind ;  that  he  was  joking  never  occurred  to  her.  Peter 
was  not  gifted  with  any  sense  of  humor  whatsoever, 


PETER  DISCOVERS  A  WAY  OUT    25 

and  Helen  May  knew  it  as  she  knew  the  color  of  his  hair. 

"  You  will  no  longer  be  a  wage  slave,  doomed  to 
spend  eight  hours  of  every  day  before  a  typewriter  in 
that  insurance  office.  You  will  be  independent  —  a 
property  owner  who  can  see  that  property  grow  under 
your  thought  and  labor.  You  will  see  Vic  growing  up 
among  clean,  healthful  surroundings.  He  will  be  able 
to  bear  much  of  the  burden  — the  brunt  of  the  work. 
The  boy  is  in  a  fair  way  to  be  ruined  if  he  stays  here 
any  longer.  There  will  be  six  weeks  of  grace  before 
the  claim  can  be  seized  —  ah  —  jumped,  the  young  man 
called  it.  In  that  time  you  must  be  located  upon  the 
place.  But  you  should  make  all  possible  haste  in  any 
case,  on  account  of  your  health.  Monday  morning  we 
will  go  together  with  young  Calvert  and  attend  to  the 
legal  papers,  and  then  I  should  advise  you  to  devote 
your  time  to  making  preparations  — " 

"Dad  —  Stevenson!"  Helen  May's  voice  ended  in 
an  exasperated,  frightened  kind  of  wail.  "  I  and  Vic ! 
Are  you  crazy  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all.  It  is  sudden,  of  course.  But  you  will 
find,  when  you  stop  to  think  it  over,  that  many  of  the 
wisest  things  we  ever  do  are  done  without  dawdling, — • 
suddenly,  one  may  say.  No,  Babe,  I  — " 

"  But  two  hundred  dollars  just  for  the  rights  to  the 
claim !  Dad,  look  at  it  calmly !  To  build  up  a  ranch 


26         STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

takes  money.  I  don't  know  a  thing  about  ranching, 
and  neither  do  you ;  but  we  both  know  that  much.  One 
has  to  eat,  even  on  a  ranch.  I  wouldn't  have  my  ten  a 
week,  remember,  and  you  wouldn't  have  your  salary, 
unless  you  mean  to  stay  here  and  keep  on  at  the  New 
Era.  And  that  wouldn't  work,  dad.  You  know  it 
wouldn't  work.  Your  salary  would  barely  keep  you, 
let  alone  sending  money  to  us.  You  can't  expect  to 
keep  yourself  and  furnish  us  money;  and  you've  paid 
out  all  you  had  in  the  bank.  The  thing's  impossible  on 
the  face  of  it !  " 

"  Yes,  planning  from  that  basis,  it  would  be  impos 
sible."  Peter's  eyes  were  wistful.  "  I  tried  to  plan  that 
way  at  first;  but  I  saw  it  wouldn't  do.  The  expense  of 
getting  there,  even,  would  be  quite  an  item  in  itself. 
No,  it  couldn't  be  done  that  way,  Babe." 

"  Then  will  you  tell  me  how  else  it  is  to  be  done  ?  " 
Helen  May's  voice  was  tired  and  exasperated.  "  You 
say  you  have  paid  the  two  hundred.  That  leaves  us 
just  the  furniture  in  this  flat;  and  it  wouldn't  bring 
enough  to  take  us  to  the  place,  let  alone  having  any 
thing  to  live  on  when  we  got  there.  And  my  wages 
would  stop,  and  so  would  yours.  Dad,  do  you  realize 
what  you've  done  ?  "  She  tilted  her  head  forward  and 
stared  at  him  intently  through  her  lashes,  which  was  a 
trick  she  had. 


PETER  DISCOVERS  A  WAY  OUT     27 

"  Yes,  Babe,  I  realize  perfectly.  I'm  —  not  count 
ing  on  just  the  furniture.  I  —  think  it  would  pay  to 
ship  the  stuff  on  to  the  claim." 

"  For  heaven's  sake,  dad !  What  are  you  counting 
011  ?  "  Helen  May  gave  a  hysterical  laugh  that  set  her 
coughing  in  a  way  to  make  the  veins  stand  out  on  fore 
head  and  throat.  (Peter's  hands  clenched  into  fighting 
fists  while  he  waited  for  the  spasm  to  wear  itself  out. 
She  should  noi  go  the  way  her  mother  had  gone,  he  was 
thinking  fiercely.)  "What  —  are  —  you  counting 
on  ? "  she  repeated,  when  she  could  speak  again. 

"  Well,  I'm  counting  on  —  a  source  that  is  sure," 
Peter  replied  vaguely.  "  The  way  will  be  provided, 
when  the  time  comes.  I  —  I  have  thought  it  all  out 
calmly,  Babe.  The  money  will  be  ready  when  you  need 
it." 

"Dad,  don't  borrow  money!  It  would  be  a  load 
that  would  keep  us  staggering  for  years.  We  are  going 
along  all  right,  better  than  hundreds  of  people  all 
around  us.  I'm  feeling  better  than  I  was;  now  the 
weather  is  settled,  I  feel  lots  better.  You  can  sell  what 
ever  you  bought;  maybe  you  can  make  a  profit  on  the 
sale.  Try  and  do  that,  dad.  Get  enough  profit  to  pay 
for  that  gray  suit  I  saw  in  the  window !  "  She  was 
smiling  at  him  now,  the  whimsical  smile  that  was  per 
haps  her  greatest  charm. 


28         STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

"  ISTever  mind  about  the  gray  suit."  Peter  spoke 
sharply.  "  I  won't  need  it."  He  got  up  irritably  and 
began  pacing  back  and  forth  across  the  little  sitting 
room.  "You're  not  better,"  he  declared  petulantly. 
"  That's  the,way  your  mother  used  to  talk  —  even  up  to 
the  very  last.  A  year  in  that  office  would  kill  you.  I 
know.  The  doctor  said  so.  Your  only  chance  is  to  get 
into  a  high,  dry  place  where  you  can  live  out  of  doors. 
He  told  me  so.  This  young  man  with  the  homestead 
claim  was  a  godsend  —  a  godsend,  I  tell  you !  It  would 
be  a  crime  —  it  would  be  murder  to  let  the  chance  slip 
by  for  lack  of  money.  I'd  steal  the  money,  if  I  knew 
of  any  way  to  get  by  with  it,  and  if  there  was  no  other 
way  open.  But  there  is  a  way.  I'm  taking  it. 

"  I  don't  want  to  hear  any  more  argument,"  he  ex 
claimed,  facing  her  quite  suddenly.  His  eyes  had  a 
light  she  had  never  seen  in  them  before.  "  Monday  you 
will  go  with  me  and  attend  to  the  necessary  legal  pa 
pers.  After  that,  I'll  attend  to  the  means  of  getting 
there." 

He  stood  looking  down  at  her  where  she  sat  with  her 
hands  clasped  in  her  lap,  staring  up  at  him  steadfastly 
from  under  her  eyebrows.  His  face  softened,  quivered 
until  she  thought  he  was  going  to  cry  like  a  woman. 
But  he  only  came  and  laid  a  shaking  hand  on  her  head 
and  smoothed  her  hair  as  one  caresses  a  child. 


PETER  DISCOVERS  A  WAY  OUT    29 

"  Don't  oppose  me  in  this,  Babe,"  he  said  wearily. 
"  I've  thought  it  all  out,  and  it's  best  for  all  of  us.  I 
can't  see  you  dying  here  by  inches  —  in  the  harness. 
And  think  of  Vic,  if  that  happened.  He's  just  at  the 
age  where  he  needs  you.  I  couldn't  do  anything  much 
with  him  alone.  It's  the  best  thing  to  do,  the  only  thing 
to  do.  Don't  say  anything  more  against  it,  don't  argue. 
When  the  time  comes,  you'll  do  your  part  bravely,  as 
I  shall  do  mine.  And  if  you  feel  that  it  isn't  worth 
while  for  yourself,  think  of  Vic." 

Peter  turned  abruptly  and  went  into  his  room,  and 
Helen  May  dropped  her  head  down  upon  her  arms  and 
cried  awhile,  though  she  did  not  clearly  understand  why, 
except  that  life  seemed  very  cruel,  like  some  formless 
monster  that  caught  and  squeezed  the  very  soul  out  of 
one.  Soon  she  heard  Vic  coming,  and  pulled  herself 
together  for  the  lecture  he  had  earned  by  going  out 
without  permission  and  staying  later  than  he  should. 
On  one  point  dad  was  right,  she  told  herself  wearily, 
while  she  was  locking  up  for  the  night.  Town  cer 
tainly  was  no  place  for  Vic. 

The  next  day,  urged  by  her  father,  Helen  May  met 
Johnny  Calvert,  and  cooked  him  a  nice  dinner,  and 
heard  a  great  deal  about  her  new  claim.  And  Monday, 
furthermore,  the  three  attended  to  certain  legal  details. 
She  had  many  moments  of  panic  when  she  believed  her 


30         STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

father  was  out  of  his  mind,  and  when  she  feared  that 
he  would  do  some  desperate  thing  like  stealing  money 
to  carry  out  this  strange  plan.  But  she  did  as  he 
wished.  There  was  a  certain  inflexible  quality  in  Pe 
ter's  mild  voice,  a  certain  determination  in  his  insigni 
ficant  face  that  required  obedience  to  his  wishes.  Even 
Vic  noticed  it,  and  eyed  Peter  curiously,  and  asked 
Helen  May  what  ailed  the  old  man. 

An  old  man  Peter  was  when  he  went  to  his  room  that 
night,  leaving  Helen  May  dazed  and  exhausted  after 
another  evening  spent  in  absorbing  queer  bits  of  infor 
mation  from  the  garrulous  Johnny  Calvert.  She  would 
be  able  to  manage  all  right,  now,  Peter  told  her  reliev- 
edly  when  Johnny  left.  She  knew  as  much  about  the 
place  as  she  could  possibly  know  without  having  been 
there. 

He  said  good  night  and  left  her  wondering  bewild- 
eredly  what  strange  thing  her  dad  would  do  next.  In 
the  morning  she  knew. 

Peter  did  not  answer  when  Helen  May  rapped  on  his 
door  and  said  that  breakfast  would  be  ready  in  five 
minutes.  Never  before  had  he  failed  to  call  out :  "  All 
right,  Babe ! "  more  or  less  cheerfully.  She  waited  a 
minute,  listening,  and  then  rapped  again  and  repeated 
her  customary  announcement.  Another  wait,  and  she 
turned  the  knob  and  looked  in. 


PETER  DISCOVERS  A  WAY  OUT    31 

She  did  not  scream  at  what  she  found  there.  Vic, 
sleeping  on  the  couch  behind  a  screen  in  the  living  room, 
yawned  himself  awake  and  proceeded  reluctantly  to 
set  his  feet  upon  the  floor  and  grope,  sleepy-eyed,  for 
his  clothes,  absolutely  unconscious  that  in  the  night 
3ometime  Peter  had  passed  a  certain  mountain  of  diffi 
culty  and  had  reached  out  unafraid  and  pulled  wide 
open  the  door  of  opportunity  for  his  children. 

Beyond  the  door,  Helen  May  was  standing  rigidly 
beside  the  bed  where  Peter  lay,  and  was  reading  for  the 
second  time  the  letter  which  Peter  had  held  in  his  hand. 
At  first  her  mind  had  refused  to  grasp  its  meaning. 
Now,  reading  slowly,  she  knew  .  .  . 

Dear  Babe,  (said  the  letter). 

Don't  be  horrified  at  what  I  have  done.  I  have 
thought  the  whole  matter  over  calmly,  and  I  am  satis 
fied  that  this  is  the  best  way.  My  life  could  not  go  on 
very  long,  anyway.  The  doctor  made  that  plain  enough 
to  me  Sunday.  I  saw  him.  I  was  in  a  bad  way  with 
kidney  trouble,  he  said.  I  knew  it  before  he  told  me. 
I  knew  I  was  only  good  for  a  few  months  more  at  the 
most,  and  I  would  soon  be  a  helpless  burden.  Besides, 
I  have  heart  trouble  that  will  account  for  this  sudden 
taking  off,  so  you  can  escape  any  unpleasant  gossip. 

Take  the  life  insurance  and  use  it  on  that  claim,  for 
you  and  Vic.  Live  out  in  the  open  and  get  well,  and 
make  a  man  of  Vic.  Three  thousand  dollars  ought  to 
be  ample  to  put  the  ranch  ori  a  paying  basis.  And 
don't  blame  your  dad  for  collecting  it  now,  when  it  will 


32         STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

do  the  most  good.  I  could  see  no  benefit  in  waiting 
and  suffering,  and  letting  you  get  farther  downhill  all 
the  while,  making  it  that  much  harder  to  climb  back. 
Go  at  once  to  your  claim,  and  do  your  best  —  that  is 
what  will  make  your  dad  happiest.  You  will  get  well, 
and  you  will  make  a  home  for  you  and  Vic,  and  be  in 
dependent  and  happy.  In  doing  this  you  will  fulfill 
the  last,  loving  wish  of  your  father. 

PETER  STEVENSON. 

P.  S.     Better  stock  the  place  with  goats.     Johnny 
Calvert  thinks  they  would  be  better  than  sheep. 


CHAPTEK  THREE 

VIO    SHOULD    WORRY 

WISE  man  or  fool,  Peter  had  taken  the  one  way 
to  impress  obedience  upon  Helen  May.  Had 
he  urged  and  argued  and  kept  on  living,  Helen  May 
could  have  brought  forth  reasons  and  arguments,  elo 
quence  even,  to  combat  him.  But  Peter  had  taken  the 
simple,  unanswerable  way  of  stating  his  wishes,  open 
ing  the  way  to  their  accomplishment,  and  then  quietly 
lying  back  upon  his  pillow  and  letting  death  take  him 
beyond  reach  of  protest. 

For  days  Helen  May  was  numb  with  the  sudden 
dropping  of  Life's  big  responsibilities  upon  her  shoul 
ders.  She  could  not  even  summon  energy  enough  to 
call  Vic  to  an  accounting  of  his  absences  from  the  house. 
Until  after  the  funeral  Vic  had  been  subdued,  going 
around  on  his  toes  and  looking  at  Helen  May  with  wide, 
solemn  eyes  and  lips  prone  to  trembling.  But  fifteen 
years  is  the  resilient  age,  and  two  days  after  Peter  was 
buried,  Vic  asked  her  embarrassedly  if  she  thought  it 
would  look  right  for  him  to  go  to  the  ball  game.  He 
had  to  do  something,  he  added  defensively. 


34         STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

"  Oh,  I  guess  so ;  run  along,"  Helen  May  had  told 
him  absently,  without  in  the  least  realizing  what  it  was 
he  had  wanted  to  do.  After  that  Vic  went  his  way 
without  going  through  the  ceremony  of  asking  her  con 
sent,  secure  in  the  knowledge  of  her  indifference. 

The  insurance  company  for  which  she  had  worked  set 
in  motion  the  wheels  that  would  eventually  place  in  her 
hands  the  three  thousand  dollars  for  which  Peter  had 
calmly  given  his  life.  She  hated  the  money.  She 
wanted  to  tell  her  dad  how  impossible  it  was  for  her  to 
use  a  cent  of  it.  Yet  she  must  use  it.  She  must  use  it 
as  he  had  directed,  because  he  had  died  to  open  the  way 
for  her  obedience.  She  must  take  Vic,  against  his  vio 
lent  young  will,  she  suspected,  and  she  must  go  to  that 
claim  away  off  there  somewhere  in  the  desert,  and  she 
must  live  in  the  open  —  and  raise  goats !  For  there 
was  a  certain  strain  of  Peter's  simplicity  in  the  nature 
of  his  daughter.  His  last  scrawled  advice  was  to  her  a 
command  which  she  must  obey  as  soon  as  she  could  mus 
ter  the  physical  energy  for  obedience. 

"  What  do  I  know  about  goats !  "  she  impatiently 
asked  her  empty  room  one  morning  after  a  night  of 
fantastic  dreams.  "  They  eat  tin  cans  and  paper,  and 
Masonic  candidates  ride  them,  and  they  stand  on  high 
banks  and  look  silly,  and  have  long  chin  whiskers  and 
horns  worn  back  from  their  foreheads.  But  as  to  rais- 


VIC  SHOULD  WORRY  35 

ing  them  —  what  are  they  good  for,  for  heaven's  sake  ?  " 

"  Huh  ?  Say,  what  are  you  mumbling  about  ?  "  Vic, 
it  happened,  was  awake,  and  Helen  May's  door  was  ajar. 

"  Oh,  nothing."  Then  the  impulse  of  speech  being 
strong  in  her,  Helen  May  pulled  on  a  kimono  and  went 
out  to  where  Vic  lay  curled  up  in  the  blankets  on  the 
couch.  "  We've  got  to  go  to  New  Mexico,  Vic,  and  live 
on  that  land  dad  bought  the  rights  to,  and  raise  goats !  " 

"  Yes,  we  have  —  not !  " 

"  We  have.  Dad  said  so.  We've  got  to  do  it,  Vic. 
I  expect  we'd  better  start  as  soon  as  the  insurance  is 
paid,  and  that  ought  to  be  next  week.  Malpais  is  the 
name  of  the  darned  place.  Inez  Garcia  says  Malpais 
means  bad  country.  I  asked  her  when  she  was  here 
yesterday.  I  expect  it  does,  though  you  can't  tell  about 
Inez.  She's  tricky  about  translating  stuff;  she  thinks 
it's  funny  to  fake  the  meaning  of  things.  But  I  expect 
it's  true;  it  sounds  like  that." 

"  I  should  worry,"  Vic  yawned,  with  the  bland  trite 
ness  of  a  boy  who  speaks  mostly  in  current  catch  phrases. 
"  I've  got  a  good  chance  for  a  juvenile  part  in  that  big 
five-reeler  Walt's  going  to  put  on.  Fat  chance  any 
body's  got  putting  me  to  herding  goats!  That  New 
Mexico  dope  got  my  number  the  first  time  dad  sprung 
it.  Not  for  mine !  " 

Helen  May  sat  down  on  the  arm  of  a  Mission  chair, 


36         STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

wrapped  her  kimono  around  her  thin  figure,  and  looked 
at  Vic  from  under  her  lashes.  Besides  raising  goats 
and  living  out  in  the  open,  she  was  to  make  a  man  of 
Vic.  She  did  not  know  which  duty  appalled  her  most, 
or  which  animal  seemed  to  her  the  more  intractable. 

"  WeVe  got  to  do  it,"  she  said  simply.  "  I  don't 
like  it  either,  but  that  doesn't  matter.  Dad  planned 
that  way  for  us." 

Vic  sat  up  crossly,  groping  for  the  top  button  of  his 
pa  jama  coat.  His  long  hair  was  tousled  in  front  and 
stood  straight  up  at  the  back,  and  his  lids  were  heavy 
yet  with  sleep.  He  looked  very  young  and  very  un 
ruly,  and  as  though  several  years  of  grace  were  still 
left  to  Helen  May  before  she  need  trouble  herself  about 
his  manhood. 

"  Not  for  mine,"  he  repeated  stubbornly.  "  You  can 
go  if  you  want  to,  but  I'm  going  to  stay  in  pictures." 
No  film  star  in  the  city  could  have  surpassed  Vic's  tone 
of  careless  assurance.  "  Listen !  Dad  was  queer  along 
towards  the  last.  You  know  that  yourself.  And  just 
because  he  had  a  nutty  idea  of  a  ranch  somewhere,  is  no 
reason  why  we  should  drop  everything  — " 

"  We've  got  to  do  it,  and  you  needn't  fuss,  because 
you've  got  to  go  along.  I  expect  we  can  study  up  — 
on  goats."  Her  voice  shook  a  little,  for  she  was  close 
to  tears. 


VIC  SHOULD  WORRY  37 

"  Well,  I'm  darned  if  you  ain't  as  nutty  as  dad  was ! 
Of  course,  he  was  old  and  sick,  and  there  was  plenty  of 
excuse  for  him  to  slop  down  along  towards  the  last. 
Now,  listen!  My  idea  is  to  get  a  nifty  bungalow  out 
there  handy  to  the  studios,  and  both  of  us  to  go  into 
pictures.  We  can  get  a  car;  what  I  want  is  a  speedy, 
sassy  little  boat  that  can  travel.  Well,  and  listen. 
We'll  have  plenty  to  live  on  till  we  both  land  in  stock. 
I've  got  a  good  chance  right  now  to  work  into  a  com 
edy  company;  they  say  my  grin  screens  like  a  million 
dollars,  and  when  it  comes  to  making  a  comedy  getaway 
I'm  just  geared  right,  somehow,  to  pull  a  laugh.  That 
college  picture  we  made  got  me  a  lot  of  notice  in  the 
projection  room,  and  I  was  only  doing  mob  stuff,  at  that. 
But  I  stood  out.  And  Walt's  promised  me  a  fat  little 
bit  in  this  five-reeler.  I'll  land  in  stock  before  the 
summer's  half  over! 

"  And  you  can  land  with  some  good  company  if  you 
just  make  a  stab  at  it.  Your  eyes  and  that  trick  of 
looking  up  under  your  eyebrows  are  just  the  type  for 
these  sob  leads,  and  you've  got  a  good  photographic 
face:  a  good  face  for  it,"  he  emphasized  generously. 
"  And  your  figure  couldn't  be  beat.  Believe  me,  I 
know.  You  ought  to  see  some  of  them  Janes  —  and 
at  that,  they  manage  to  get  by  with  their  stuff.  A  little 
camera  experience,  under  a  good  director  that  would 


38         STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

bring  out  your  good  points  —  I  was  going  to  spring 
the  idea  before,  but  I  knew  dad  wouldn't  stand  for  it." 

"  But  we've  got  to  go  and  live  on  that  claim.  We've 
got  to." 

Vic's  face  purpled.  "  Say,  are  you  plumb  bugs? 
Why  — "  Vic  gulped  and  stuttered.  "  Say,  where  do 
you  get  that  stuff?  You  better  tie  a  can  to  it,  sis;  it 
don't  get  over  with  me.  I'm  for  screen  fame,  and  I'm 
going  to  get  it  too.  Why,  by  the  time  I'm  twenty,  I'll 
betcha  I  can  pull  down  a  salary  that'll  make  Charlie 
Chaplin  look  like  an  extra !  Why,  my  grin  — " 

"  Your  grin  you  can  use  on  the  goats,"  Helen  May 
quelled  unfeelingly.  "  I  only  hope  it  won't  scare  the 
poor  things  to  death.  You  needn't  argue  about  it  — 
as  if  I  was  crazy  to  go !  Do  you  think  I  want  to  leave 
Los  Angeles,  and  everybody  I  know,  and  everything  I 
care  about,  and  go  to  New  Mexico  and  live  like  a  sav 
age,  and  raise  goats  ?  I'd  rather  go  to  jail,  if  you  ask 
me.  I  hate  the  very  thought  of  a  ranch,  Vic  Stevenson, 
and  you  know  I  do.  But  that  doesn's  matter  a  parti 
cle.  Dad—" 

"  I  told  you  dad  was  crazy !  "  Vic's  tone  was  too 
violent  for  grief.  His  young  ambitions  were  in  jeop 
ardy,  and  even  his  dad's  death  must  look  unimportant 
alongside  the  greater  catastrophe  that  threatened.  "  Do 
you  think,  for  gosh  sake,  the  whole  family's  got  to  be 


VIC  SHOULD  WORRY  39 

nutty  just  because  he  was  sick  and  got  a  queer  streak  ?  " 

"  You've  no  right  to  say  that.  Dad  —  knew  what  he 
was  doing." 

"  Aw,  where  do  you  get  that  dope  ?  "  Vic  eyed  her 
disgustedly,  and  with  a  good  deal  of  condescension.  "  If 
you  had  any  sense,  you'd  knew  he  was  queer  for  days 
before  it  happened.  I  noticed  it,  all  right,  and  if  you 
didn't  — " 

Helen  May  did  not  say  anything  at  all.  She  got  up 
and  went  to  her  room  and  came  back  with  Peter's  last, 
pitiful  letter.  She  gave  it  to  Vic  and  sat  down  again 
on  the  arm  of  the  Mission  chair  and  waited,  looking  at 
him  from  under  her  lashes,  her  head  tilted  forward. 

Vic  was  impressed,  impressed  to  a  round-eyed  si 
lence.  He  knew  his  dad's  handwriting,  and  he  un 
folded  the  sheet  and  read  what  Peter  had  written. 

"  I  found  that  letter  in  —  his  hand  —  that  morn 
ing."  Helen  May  tried  to  keep  her  voice  steady. 
"  You  mustn't  tell  any  one  about  it,  Vic.  They  mustn't 
know.  But  you  see,  he  —  after  doing  that  to  get  the 
money  for  me,  why  —  you  see,  Vic,  we've  got  to  go 
there.  And  we've  got  to  make  good.  We've  got  to." 

There  must  have  been  a  little  of  Peter's  disposition 
in  Vic,  too.  He  lay  for  several  minutes  staring  hard  at 
a  patch  of  sunlight  on  the  farther  wall.  I  suppose  when 
one  is  fifteen  the  ambition  to  be  a  movie  star  dies  just 


40         STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

as  hard  as  does  later  the  ambition  to  be  president  of  the 
United  States. 

"  You  see,  don't  you,  Vic  ?  "  Helen  May  watched 
him  nervously. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think  I  am  ? "  Vic  turned  upon 
her  with  a  scowl.  "  You  might  have  said  it  was  for 
your  health.  You  wasn't  playing  fair.  You  —  you. 
kept  saying  it  was  to  raise  goats !  " 


CHAPTER  FOUR 

STAJSR    WOULD    LIKE    TO    KNOW 

PROPERLY  speaking  Starr  did  not  belong  to  New 
Mexico.  He  was  a  Texas  man,  and,  until  a  cer 
tain  high  official  asked  him  to  perform  a  certain  mission 
for  the  Secret  Service,  he  had  been  a  ranger.  Puns 
were  made  upon  his  name  when  he  was  Ranger  Starr, 
but  he  was  a  ranger  no  longer,  and  the  puns  had  ceased 
to  trouble  him.  His  given  name  was  Chauncy  DeWitt ; 
perhaps  that  is  why  even  his  closest  friends  called  him 
Starr,  it  was  so  much  easier  to  say,  and  it  seemed  to  fit 
him  so  much  better. 

Ostensibly,  and  for  a  buffer  to  public  curiosity,  Starr 
was  acting  in  the  modest  capacity  of  cattle  buyer  for  a 
big  El  Paso  meat  company.  Incidentally  he  bought 
young  sheep  in  season,  and  chickens  from  the  Mexican 
ranchers,  and  even  a  bear  that  had  been  shot  up  in  the 
mountains  very  early  in  the  spring,  before  the  fat  had 
given  place  to  leanness.  Whatever  else  Starr  did  he 
kept  carefully  to  himself,  but  his  meat-buying  was  per 
fectly  authentic  and  satisfactory.  And  if  those  who 
knew  his  past  record  wondered  at  his  occupation,  Starr 


42         STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

had  plenty  of  reasons  for  the  change,  and  plenty  of  time 
in  which  to  explain  those  reasons. 

As  to  his  personal  appearance,  there  is  not  a  great 
deal  to  say.  I'm  afraid  Starr  would  not  have  attracted 
any  notice  in  a  crowd.  He  was  a  trifle  above  average 
height,  perhaps,  and  he  had  nice  eyes  whose  color  might 
be  a  matter  of  dispute ;  because  they  were  a  bit  too  dark 
for  gray,  a  bit  too  light  for  real  hazel,  with  tiny  flecks 
of  green  in  certain  lights.  His  lashes  were  almost 
heavy  enough  to  be  called  a  mark  of  beauty,  and  when 
he  took  off  his  hat,  which  was  not  often  except  at  meal 
time  and  when  he  slept  in  a  real  bed,  there  was  some 
thing  very  attractive  about  his  forehead  and  the  way 
his  hair  grew  on  his  temples.  His  mouth  was  pleasant 
when  his  mood  was  pleasant,  but  that  was  not  always. 
One  front  tooth  had  been  gold-crowned,  which  made  his 
smile  a  trifle  conspicuous,  but  could  not  be  called  a 
disfigurement.  For  the  rest,  he  was  tanned  to  a  real 
desert  copper,  and  riding  kept  him  healthily  lean.  But 
as  I  said  before,  you  would  never  pick  him  out  of  a 
crowd  as  the  hero  of  this  story  or  of  any  other. 

Like  most  of  us,  Starr  did  not  dazzle  at  the  first  sight. 
One  must  come  into  close  contact  with  him  to  find  him 
different  from  any  other  passably  attractive,  intelligent 
man  of  the  open.  Oh,  if  you  must  have  his  age,  I  think 
he  gave  it  at  thirty-one,  the  last  time  he  was  asked,  but 


STARR  WOULD  LIKE  TO  KNOW    43 

he  might  have  said  twenty-five  and  been  believed.  He 
was  bashful,  and  he  got  on  better  with  men  than  he  did 
with  women ;  but  if  you  will  stop  to  think,  most  decent 
men  do  if  they  have  lived  under  their  hats  since  they 
grew  to  the  long-trouser  age.  And  if  they  have  spent 
their  working  days  astride  a  stock  saddle,  you  may  be 
sure  they  are  bashful  unless  they  are  overbold  and  im 
possible.  Well,  Starr  was  of  the  bashful,  easily  stam 
peded  type.  As  to  his  morals,  he  smoked  and  he  swore 
a  good  deal  upon  occasion,  and  he  drank,  and  he  played 
pool,  and  now  and  then  a  little  poker,  and  he  would 
lie  for  a  friend  any  time  it  was  necessary  and  think 
nothing  of  it.  Also,  he  would  fight  whenever  the  occa 
sion  seemed  to  warrant  it.  He  had  not  been  to  church 
since  he  wore  square  collars  starched  and  spread  across 
his  shoulders,  and  the  shine  of  soap  on  his  cheeks.  And 
a  pretty  girl  would  better  not  make  eyes  too  boldly  if 
she  objected  to  being  kissed,  although  Starr  had  never 
in  his  life  asked  a  girl  to  marry  him. 

It  doesn't  sound  very  promising  for  a  hero.  He 
really  was  just  a  human  being  and  no  saint.  Saint? 
You  wouldn't  think  so  if  you  had  heard  what  he  said 
to  his  horse,  Rabbit,  just  about  an  hour  before  you  were 
introduced  to  him. 

Rabbit,  it  seems  had  been  pacing  along,  half  asleep 
in  the  blistering  heat  of  midday,  among  the  cactus  and 


44         STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

the  grease-wood  and  those  depressing,  yellowish  weeds 
that  pretend  to  be  clothing  the  desert  with  verdure,  when 
they  are  merely  emphasizing  its  barrenness.  Starr  had 
been  half  asleep  too,  riding  with  one  leg  over  the  sad 
dle  horn  to  rest  his  muscles,  and  with  his  hat  brim 
pulled  down  over  his  eyebrows  to  shade  his  eyes  from 
the  pitiless  glare  of  New  Mexico  sunlight.  Rabbit 
might  be  depended  upon  to  dodge  the  prairie  dog  holes 
and  rocks  and  dirt  hummocks,  day  or  night,  waking  or 
sleeping ;  and  since  they  were  riding  cross-country  any 
way,  miles  from  a  trail,  and  since  they  were  headed 
for  water,  and  Kabbit  knew  as  well  as  Starr  just  where 
it  was  to  be  found,  Starr  held  the  reins  slack  in  his 
thumb  and  finger  and  let  the  horse  alone. 

That  was  all  right,  up  to  a  certain  point.  Eabbit 
was  a  perfectly  dependable  little  range  horse,  and  sen 
sible  beyond  most  horses.  He  was  ambling  along  at  his 
easy  little  fox-trot  that  would  carry  Starr  many  a  mile 
in  a  day,  and  he  had  his  eyes  half  shut  against  the  sun 
glare,  and  his  nose  almost  at  a  level  with  his  knees.  I 
suppose  he  was  dreaming  of  cool  pastures  or  something 
like  that,  when  a  rattlesnake,  coiled  in  the  scant  shade 
of  a  weed,  lifted  his  tail  and  buzzed  as  stridently,  as 
abruptly  as  thirteen  rattles  and  a  button  can  buzz. 

Rabbit  had  been  bitten  once  when  he  was  a  colt  and 
had  gone  around  with  his  head  swollen  up  like  a  barrel 


STARR  WOULD  LIKE  TO  KNOW    45 

for  days.  He  gave  a  great,  horrified  snort,  heaved  him 
self  straight  up  in  the  air,  whirled  on  his  hind  feet  and 
went  bucking  across  the  scenery  like  a  rodeo  outlaw. 

Starr  did  not  accompany  him  any  part  of  the  distance. 
Starr  had  gone  off  backward  and  lit  on  his  neck,  which 
I  assure  you  is  painful  and  disturbing  to  one's  whole 
physical  and  moral  framework.  I'll  say  this  much  for 
Starr:  The  first  thing  he  did  when  he  got  up  was  to 
shoot  the  head  off  the  snake,  whose  tail  continued  to 
buzz  in  a  dreary,  aimless  way  when  there  was  abso 
lutely  nothing  to  buzz  about.  Snakes  are  like  that. 

Starr  was  a  little  like  that,  also.  He  continued  to 
cuss  in  a  fretful,  objectless  way,  even  after  Rabbit  had 
stopped  and  waited  for  him  with  apology  written  in  the 
very  droop  of  his  ears.  When  he  had  remounted,  and 
the  horse  had  settled  again  to  his  straight-backed,  shuf 
fling  fox-trot,  Starr  would  frequently  think  of  something 
else  to  say  upon  the  subject  of  fool  horses  and  snakes 
and  long,  dry  miles  and  the  interminable  desert;  but 
since  none  of  the  things  would  bear  repeating,  we  will 
let  it  go  at  that.  The  point  is  that  Starr  was  no  saint. 

He  knew  of  a  spring  where  the  water  was  sweet  and 
cold,  and  where  a  lonesome  young  fellow  lived  by  him 
self  and  was  always  glad  to  see  some  one  ride  up  to  his 
door.  The  young  fellow  was  what  is  called  a  good 
feeder,  and  might  be  depended  upon  to  have  a  pot  of 


46         STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

frijoles  cooked,  and  sourdough  bread,  and  stewed  fruit 
of  some  kind  even  in  his  leanest  times,  and  call  him 
self  next  door  to  starvation.  And  if  he  happened  to 
be  in  funds,  there  was  no  telling;  Starr,  for  instance, 
had  eaten  canned  plum  pudding  and  potted  chicken 
and  maraschino  cherries  and  ginger  snaps,  all  at  one 
sitting,  when  he  happened  to  strike  the  fellow  just  after 
selling  a  few  sheep.  Thinking  of  these  things,  Starr 
clucked  to  Eabbit  and  told  him  for  gosh  sake  to  pick  his 
feet  off  the  ground  and  not  to  take  root  and  grow  there 
in  the  desert  like  a  several-kinds  of  a  so-and-so  cactus. 

Rabbit  twitched  back  his  ears  to  catch  the  drift  of 
Starr's  remarks,  rattled  his  teeth  in  a  bored  yawn,  and 
shuffled  on.  Starr  laughed. 

"  Durn  it,  why  is  it  you  never  take  me  serious  ?  "  he 
complained.  "  I  can  name  over  all  the  mean  things 
you  are,  and  you  just  waggle  one  ear,  much  as  to  say, 
'  Aw,  hell !  Same  ole  tune,  and  nothing  to  it  but 
noise/  Some  of  these  days  you're  going  to  get  your 
pedigree  read  to  you  —  and  read  right !  "  He  leaned 
forward  and  lovingly  lifted  Kabbit's  mane,  holding  it 
for  a  minute  or  two  away  from  the  sweaty  neck. 
"  Sure's  hot  out  here  to-day,  ain't  it,  pardner  ? "  he 
murmured,  and  let  the  mane  fall  again  into  place. 
"  Kinda  fries  out  the  grease,  don't  it  ?  If  young  Cal- 
vert's  got  any  hoss-feed  in  camp,  I'm  going  to  beg  some 


STARR  WOULD  LIKE  TO  KNOW    47 

off  him.  Get  along,  the  faster  you  go,  the  quicker 
you'll  get  there." 

The  desert  gave  place  to  scattered,  brown  cobble 
stones  of  granite.  Rabbit  picked  his  way  carefully 
among  these,  setting  his  feet  down  daintily  in  the  in 
terstices  of  the  rocks.  He  climbed  a  long  slope  that 
proved  itself  to  be  a  considerable  hill  when  one  looked 
back  at  the  desert  below.  The  farther  side  was  more 
abrupt,  and  he  took  it  in  patient  zigzags  where  the  foot 
ing  promised  some  measure  of  security.  At  the  bot 
tom  he  turned  short  off  to  the  right  and  made  his  way 
briskly  along  a  rough  wagon  trail  that  hugged  the  hill 
side. 

"  Fresh  tracks  going  in  —  and  then  out  again," 
Starr  announced  musingly  to  Rabbit.  "  Maybe  young 
Calvert  hired  a  load  of  grub  brought  out ;  that,  or  he's 
had  a  visitor  in  the  last  day  or  two  —  maybe  a  week 
back,  though ;  this  dry  ground  holds  tracks  a  long  while. 
Go  on,  it's  only  a  mile  or  so  now." 

The  trail  took  a  sudden  turn  toward  the  bottom  of 
the  wide  depression  as  though  it  wearied  of  dodging 
rocks  and  preferred  the  loose  sand  below.  Of  his  own 
accord  Rabbit  broke  into  a  steady  lope,  flinging  his 
head  sidewise  now  and  then  to  discourage  the  pestifer 
ous  gnats  that  swarmed  about  his  ears.  Starr,  also 
driven  to  action  of  some  kind,  began  to  fling  his  hands 


48         STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

in  long  sweeping  gestures  past  his  face.  He  hoped 
that  the  cabin,  being  on  a  higher  bit  of  ground,  would 
be  free  from  the  pests. 

Rounding  a  sharp  turn,  Starr  glimpsed  the  cabin 
and  frowned  as  something  unfamiliar  in  its  appearance 
caught  his  attention.  For  just  a  minute  he  could  not 
name  the  change,  and  then  "  Curtains  at  the  win 
dows  !  "  he  snorted.  "  Now,  has  the  dub  gone  and  got 
married,  wonder  ? "  He  hoped  not,  and  his  hope  was 
born  not  so  much  from  sympathy  with  any  woman  who 
must  live  in  such  a  place,  but  from  a  very  humanly, 
selfish  regard  for  his  own  passing  comfort.  With  a 
woman  in  the  cabin,  Starr  would  not  feel  so  free  to 
break  his  journey  there  with  a  rest  and  a  meal  or  two. 

He  went  on,  however,  sitting  passively  in  the  saddle 
while  Rabbit  headed  straight  for  the  spring.  The  bit 
of  white  curtain  at  the  one  small,  square  window  fac 
ing  that  way  troubled  Starr,  though  it  could  not  turn 
him  back  thirsty  into  the  desert. 

It  was  Rabbit  who,  ignorant  of  the  significance  of 
that  flapping  bit  of  white,  was  taken  unawares  and 
ducked  sidewise  when  Helen  May,  standing  precari 
ously  on  a  rock  beside  the  spring,  cupped  her  hands 
around  her  sun-cracked  lips  and  shouted  "  Vic !  "  at 
the  top  of  her  voice.  She  nearly  fell  off  the  rock  when 
she  saw  the  horse  and  rider  so  close.  They  had  come 


STARR  WOULD  LIKE  TO  KNOW    49 

on  her  from  behind,  round  another  sharp  nose  of  the 
rock-strewn  hillside,  so  that  she  did  not  see  them  until 
they  had  discovered  her. 

"  Oh !  "  said  Helen  May  quite  flatly,  dropping  her 
hands  from  her  sunburned  face  and  looking  Starr  over 
with  the  self-possessed,  inquiring  eyes  of  one  who  is 
accustomed  to  gazing  upon  strange  faces  by  the  thou 
sands. 

"  How  do  you  do  ? "  said  Starr,  lifting  his  hat  and 
foregoing  instinctively  the  easy  "  Howdy "  of  the 
plains.  "  Is  —  Mr.  Calvert  at  home  ?  " 

"  That  depends,"  said  Helen  May;  "  on  where  he 
calls  home.  He  isn't  here,  however." 

Rabbit,  not  in  the  least  confused  by  the  presence  of 
a  girl  in  this  out-of-the-way  place,  pushed  forward  and 
thrust  his  nose  deep  into  the  lower  pool  of  the  spring 
where  the  water  was  warmed  a  little  by  the  sun  on  the 
rocks.  Starr  could  not  think  of  anything  much  to 
say,  so  he  sat  leaning  forward  with  a  hand  on  Rabbit's 
mane,  and  watched  the  muscles  working  along  the  neck, 
when  the  horse  swallowed. 

"  Oh  —  would  you  mind  killing  that  beast  down 
there  in  that  little  hollow  ?  "  Helen  May  had  decided 
that  it  would  be  silly  to  keep  on  shouting  for  Vic  when 
this  man  was  here.  "  It's  what  they  call  a  young  Gila 
Monster,  I  think.  And  the  bite  is  said  to  be  fatal.  I 


50         STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

don't  like  the  way  he  keeps  looking  at  me.  I  be 
lieve  he's  getting  ready  to  jump  at  me." 

Starr  glanced  quickly  at  her  face,  which  was  per 
fectly  serious  and  even  a  trifle  anxious,  and  then  down 
in  the  direction  indicated  hy  a  broken-nailed,  pointing 
finger.  He  did  not  smile,  though  he  felt  like  it.  He 
looked  again  at  Helen  May. 

"  It's  a  horned  toad,"  he  informed  her  gravely. 
"  The  one  Johnny  Calvert  kept  around  for  a  pet,  I 
reckon.  He  won't  bite  —  but  I'll  kill  it  if  you  say  so." 
He  dismounted  and  picked  up  a  stone,  and  then  looked 
at  her  again  inquiringly. 

Helen  May  eyed  the  toad  askance.  "  Of  course,  if 
it's  accustomed  to  being  a  pet  —  but  it  looks  perfectly 
diabolical.  It  —  came  after  me." 

"  It  thought  you  would  feed  it,  maybe." 

"  Well,  I  won't.  It  can  think  again,"  said  Helen 
May  positively.  "  You  needn't  kill  it,  but  if  you'd 
chase  it  off  somewhere  out  of  sight  —  it  gives  me  shiv 
ers.  I  don't  like  the  way  it  stares  at  a  person  and 
blinks." 

Starr  went  over  and  picked  up  the  toad,  holding  it 
cupped  between  his  palms.  He  carried  it  a  hundred 
feet  away,  set  it  down  gently  on  the  farther  side  of  a 
rock,  and  came  back.  "  Lots  of  folks  keep  them  for 
pets,"  he  said.  "  They're  harmless,  innocent  things." 


STARR  WOULD  LIKE  TO  KNOW    51 

He  washed  his  hands  in  the  pool  where  Rabbit  had 
drunk,  took  the  tin  can  that  had  stood  on  a  ledge  in  the 
shade  when  Starr  first  came  to  the  spring  a  year  ago, 
and  dipped  it  full  from  the  inner  pool  that  was  always 
cool  under  the  rocks.  He  turned  his  back  to  Helen 
May  and  drank  satisfyingly.  The  can  was  rusted  and 
it  leaked  a  swift  succession  of  drops  that  was  almost 
a  stream.  Helen  May  decided  that  she  would  bring  a 
white  granite  cup  to  the  spring  and  throw  the  can 
away.  It  was  unsanitary,  and  it  leaked  frightfully, 
and  it  was  a  disgrace  to  civilized  thirst. 

"  Pretty  hot,  to-day,"  Starr  observed,  when  he  had 
emptied  the  can  and  put  it  back.  He  turned  and 
pulled  the  reins  up  along  Eabbit's  neck  and  took  the 
stirrup  in  his  hand. 

"  Oh,  won't  you  stop  —  for  lunch  ?  It's  a  long  way 
to  town."  Helen  May  flushed  behind  her  sunburn, 
but  she  felt  that  the  law  of  the  desert  demanded  some 
show  of  hospitality. 

"  Thanks,  I  must  be  getting  on,"  said  Starr,  touched 
his  hat  brim  and  rode  away.  He  had  a  couple  of  fried- 
ham  sandwiches  in  his  pocket,  and  he  ought  to  make 
the  Medina  ranch  by  two  o'clock,  he  reminded  himself 
philosophically.  A  woman  on  Johnny  Calvert's  claim 
was  disconcerting.  What  was  she  there  for,  anyway? 
From  the  way  she  spoke  about  Johnny,  she  couldn't  be 


52         STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

his  wife,  or  if  she  were,  she  had  a  grudge  against  him. 
She  didn't  look  like  the  kind  of  a  girl  that  would  marry 
the  Johnny  Calvert  kind  of  a  man.  Maybe  she  was 
just  stopping  there  for  a  day  cr  so,  with  her  folks. 
Still,  that  white  curtain  at  the  window  looked  perma 
nent,  somehow. 

Starr  studied  the  puzzle  from  all  angles.  He  might 
have  stayed  and  had  his  curiosity  satisfied,  but  it  was 
second  nature  with  Starr  to  hide  any  curiosity  he  might 
feel;  his  riding  rnatter-of-factly  away,  as  though  the 
girl  were  a  logical  part  of  the  place,  was  not  all  bash- 
fulness.  Partly  it  was  habit.  He  wondered  who  Vic 
was  —  man,  Woman  or  child?  Man,  he  guessed,  since 
she  was  probably  calling  for  help  with  the  horned  toad. 
Starr  grinned  when  he  thought  of  her  naming  it  a  Gila 
Monster.  If  she  had  ever  seen  one  of  those  babies,  she 
must  certainly  be  new  to  the  country,  if  she  didn't  even 
know  a  horned  toad  when  she  saw  one !  What  was  she 
doing  there,  anyway?  Starr  meant  to  find  out.  It 
was  his  business  to  find  out,  and  besides,  he  wanted  to 
know. 


CHAPTER  FIVE 

A   GKEASE    SPOT    IN.   THE    SAND 

STATER  took  his  cigarette  from  his  lips,  sent  an 
oblique  glance  of  mental  measurement  towards  his 
host,  and  shifted  his  saddle-weary  person  to  a  more 
comfortable  position  on  the  rawhide  covered  couch. 
He  had  eaten  his  fill  of  frijoles  and  tortillas  and  a  chili 
stew  hot  enough  to  crisp  the  tongue.  He  had  discussed 
the  price  of  sheep  and  had  with  much  dickering  bought 
fifty  dry  ewes  at  so  much  on  foot  delivered  at  the 
nearest  shipping  point.  He  had  given  what  news  was 
public  talk,  of  the  great  war  and  the  supposedly  present 
whereabouts  of  Villa,  and  what  was  guessed  would  hap 
pen  if  Mexican  money  went  any  lower. 

On  his  own  part,  Estancio  Medina,  called  Estan  for 
short,  had  talked  very  freely  of  these  things.  Villa, 
he  was  a  bad  one,  sure.  He  would  yet  make  trouble  if 
somebody  didn't  catch  him,  yes.  For  himself,  Estan 
Medina,  he  was  glad  to  be  on  this  side  the  border,  yes. 
The  American  government  would  let  a  poor  man  alone, 
yes.  He  could  have  his  little  home  and  his  few  sheeps, 
and  nobody  would  take  them  away.  Villa,  he  was  a 


54         STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

bad  one !  All  Mexicans  must  sure  hate  Villa  —  even 
the  men  who  did  his  fighting  for  him,  yes.  Burros, 
that's  what  they  are.  Burros,  that  have  no  mind  for 
thinking,  only  to  do  what  is  toP.  And  if  troubles  come, 
all  Mexicans  in  these  country  should  fight  for  their 
homes,  you  bet.  All  these  Mexicans  ought  to  know 
what's  good  for  them.  They  got  no  business  to  fight 
gainst  these  American  gov'ment,  not  much,  they  don't. 
They  come  here  because  they  don't  like  it  no  more  in 
Mexico  where  no  poor  man  can  have  a  home  like  here. 
You  bet. 

Estan  Medina  was  willing  to  talk  a  long  while  on  that 
subject.  His  mother,  sitting  just  inside  the  doorway, 
nodded  her  head  now  and  then  and  smiled  just  as  though 
she  knew  what  her  son  was  saying;  proud  of  his  high 
learning,  she  was.  He  could  talk  with  the  Americanos, 
and  they  listened  with  respect.  Their  language  he  could 
speak,  better  than  they  could  speak  it  themselves.  Did 
she  not  know  ?  She  herself  could  now  and  then  under 
stand  what  he  was  talking  about,  he  spoke  so  plainly. 

"  You've  got  new  neighbors,  I  see,"  Starr  observed 
irrelevantly,  when  Estan  paused  to  relight  his  cigarette. 
"  Over  at  Johnny  Calvert's,"  he  added,  when  Estan 
looked  at  him  inquiringly. 

"  Oh-h,  yes !  That  poor  boy  and  girl !  You  seen 
them?" 


A  GREASE  SPOT  IN  THE  SAND     55 

"  I  just  came  from  there,"  Starr  informed  him  easily. 
"  What  brought  them  away  out  here  ?  " 

"  They  not  tell,  then  ?  That  man  Calvert,  he's  a  bad 
one,  sure !  He  don'  stay  no  more  —  too  lazy,  I  think, 
to  watch  his  sheeps  from  the  coyotes,  and  says  they're 
stole.  He  comes  here  telling  me  I  got  his  sheeps  —  yes'. 
We  quarrel  a  little  bit,  maybe.  I  don'  like  to  be  called 
thief,  you  bet.  He's  big  mouth,  that  feller  —  no  brains, 
sure.  Then  he  goes  somewhere,  and  he  tells  what  fine 
rancho  he's  got  in -Sunlight  Basin.  These  boy  and  girl, 
they  buy.  That's  too  bad.  They  don'  belong  on  these 
desert,  sure.  W'at  they  know  about  hard  life  ?  Pretty 
soon  they  get  tired,  I  think,  and  go  back  where  comes 
from.  That  boy  —  what  for  help  he  be  to  that  girl? 
Jus'  boy  —  not  so  old  my  brother  Luis.  Can't  ride 
horse;  goes  up  and  down,  up  an'  down  like  he's  back 
goes  through  he's  hat.  What  that  girl  do  ?  Jus'  slim, 
big-eye  girl  with  soft  hand  and  sickness  of  lungs. 
Babes,  them  boy  and  girl.  Whan  Calvert  he  should 
be  shot  dead  for  let  such  inocentes  be  fool  like 
that." 

"  Where  is  Johnny  Calvert  ?  " 

"  Him  ?  He's  gone,  sure !  Not  come  back,  I  bet 
you!  He's  got  money  —  them  babes  got  rancho — " 
Estan  lifted  his  shoulders  eloquently. 

"What  are  they  going  to  do,  now  they're  here?" 


56         STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

Starr  abstractedly  wiped  off  the  ash  collar  of  his  ciga 
rette  against  the  edge  of  the  couch. 

"  Quien  sale?"  countered  Estan,  and  lifted  his 
shoulders  again.  "  I  think  pretty  quick  they  go." 

Starr  looked  at  his  watch,  yawned,  and  rose  with 
much  evident  reluctance.  "  Same  here,"  he  said. 
"  I've  got  to  make  San  Bonito  in  time  for  that  East- 
bound.  You  have  the  sheep  in  the  stockyards  by  Sat 
urday,  will  you?  If  I'm  not  there  myself,  I'll  leave 
the  money  with  Johnson  at  the  express  office.  Soon  as 
the  sheep's  inspected,  you  can  go  there  and  get  it.  Ad- 
dios.  Mucho  gracias,  Senora." 

"  She  likes  you  fine  —  my  mother,"  Estan  observed, 
as  the  two  sauntered  to  the  corral  where  Rabbit  was 
stowing  away  as  much  secate  as  he  could  against  future 
hunger.  "  Sometimes  you  come  and  stay  longer.  We 
not  see  so  many  peoples  here.  Nobody  likes  to  cross 
desert  when  she's  hot  like  this.  Too  bad  you  must  go 
now." 

Starr  agreed  with  him  and  talked  the  usual  small- 
talk  of  the  desert  places  while  he  placed  the  saddle  on 
Rabbit's  still  sweaty  back.  He  went  away  down  the 
rocky  trail  with  the  sun  shining  full  on  his  right  cheek, 
and  was  presently  swallowed  up  by  the  blank  immensity 
of  the  land  that  looked  level  as  a  floor  from  a  distance, 
but  which  was  a  network  of  small  ridges  and  shallow 


A  GREASE  SPOT  IN  THE  SAND     57 

draws  and  "  dry  washes  "  when  one  came  to  ride  over  it. 

The  trail  was  narrow  and  had  many  inconsequential 
twists  and  turns  in  it,  as  though  the  first  man  to  travel 
that  way  had  gone  blind  or  dizzy  and  could  not  hold  a 
straight  line  across  the  level.  When  an  automobile,  for 
instance,  traveled  that  road,  it  was  with  many  skiddings 
in  the  sand  on  the  turns,  which  it  must  take  circum 
spectly  if  the  driver  did  not  care  for  the  rocky,  uneven 
floor  of  the  desert  itself. 

Just  lately  some  one  had  actually  preferred  to  make 
his  own  trail,  if  tracks  told  anything.  Within  half  a 
mile  of  the  Medina  rancho  Starr  saw  where  an  automo 
bile  had  swerved  sharply  off  the  trail  and  had  taken  to 
the  hard-packed  sand  of  a  dry  arroyo  that  meandered 
barrenly  off  to  the  southeast.  He  turned  and  examined 
the  trail  over  which  he  had  traveled,  saw  that  it  offered 
no  more  discouragement  to  an  automobile  than  any 
other  bit  of  trail  in  that  part  of  the  country,  and  with 
another  glance  at  the  yellow  ribbon  of  road  before  him, 
he  also  swerved  to  the  southeast. 

For  a  mile  the  machine  had  labored,  twisting  this 
way  and  that  to  avoid  rocky  patches  or  deep  cuts  where 
ihe  spring  freshets  had  dug  out  the  looser  soil.  So  far 
as  Starr  could  discover  there  was  nothing  to  bring  a 
machine  up  here.  The  arroyo  was  as  thousands  of 
other  arroyos  in  that  country.  The  sides  sloped  up 


58         STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

steeply,  or  were  worn  into  perpendicular  banks.  It 
led  nowhere  in  particular;  it  was  not  a  short  cut  to 
any  place  that  he  knew  of.  The  trail  to  Medina's  ranch 
was  shorter  and  smoother,  supposing  Medina's  ranch 
were  the  objective  point  of  the  trip. 

Starr  could  not  see  any  sense  in  it,  and  that  is  why 
he  followed  the  tortuous  track  to  where  the  machine  had 
stopped.  That  it  had  stood  there  for  some  time  he 
knew  by  the  amount  of  oil  that  had  leaked  down  into 
the  sand.  He  did  not  know  for  certain,  since  he  did 
not  know  the  oil-leaking  habits  of  that  particular  car, 
but  he  guessed  that  it  had  stood  there  for  a  couple  of 
hours  at  least  before  the  driver  had  backed  and  turned 
around  to  retrace  his  way  to  the  trail. 

In  these  days  of  gasoline  travel  one  need  not  be 
greatly  surprised  to  meet  a  car,  or  see  the  traces  of  one, 
in  almost  any  out-of-the-way  spot  where  four  wheels 
can  possibly  be  made  to  travel.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
man  at  the  wheel  is  not  likely  to  send  his  machine  over 
rocks  and  through  sand  where  the  traction  is  poor,  and 
across  dry  ditches  and  among  greasewood,  just  for  the 
fun  of  driving.  There  is  sport  with  rod  or  gun  to  lure, 
or  there  is  neccessity  to  impel,  or  the  driver  is  lost  and 
wants  to  reach  some  point  that  looks  familiar,  or  he  is 
trying  to  dodge  something  or  somebody. 

Starr  sat  beside  that  grease  spot  in  the  sand  and 


A  GREASE  SPOT  IN  THE  SAND     59 

smoked  a  cigarette  and  studied  the  surrounding  hilb 
and  tried  to  decide  what  had  brought  the  car  up  here. 
Not  sport,  unless  it  was  hunting  of  jack  rabbits;  and 
there  were  more  jack  rabbits  out  on  the  flat  than  here. 
There  was  no  trout  stream  near,  at  least,  none  that  was 
not  more  accessible  from  another  point.  To  be  sure, 
some  tenderfoot  tourist  might  have  been  told  some  yarn 
that  brought  him  up  here  on  a  wild-goose  chase.  You 
can,  thought  Starr,  expect  any  fool  thing  of  a  tourist. 
He  remembered  running  across  one  that  was  trying 
between  trains  to  walk  across  the  mesa  from  Albu 
querque  to  the  Sandia  mountains.  It  had  been  hard 
to  convince  that  particular  specimen  that  he  was 
not  within  a  mile  or  so  of  his  goal,  and  that  he  would 
do  well  to  reach  the  mountains  in  another  three  hours 
or  so  of  steady  walking.  Compared  with  that,  driving 
a  car  up  this  arroyo  did  not  look  so  foolish. 

But  tourists  did  not  invade  this  particular  locality 
with  their  overconfident  inexperience,  and  Starr  did  not 
give  that  explanation  much  serious  thought.  Instead 
he  followed  on  up  the  narrowed  gulch  to  higher  ground, 
to  see  where  men  would  be  most  likely  to  go  from  there. 
At  the  top  he  looked  out  upon  further  knobi  and  hol 
lows  and  aimless  depressions,  just  as  he  had  •xpected. 
Half  a  mile  or  so  away  there  drifted  a  thin  spiral  of 
smoke,  from  the  kitchen  stove  of  the  Senora  Medina, 


60         STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

he  guessed.  But  there  was  no  other  sign  of  human  life 
anywhere  within  the  radius  of  many  miles,  or,  to  be  ex 
plicit,  within  the  field  of  Starr's  vision. 

He  looked  for  footprints,  but  in  a  few  minutes  he 
gave  up  in  disgust.  The  ridge  he  stood  on  stretched 
for  miles,  up  beyond  Medina's  home  ranch  and  down 
past  the  Sommers'  ranch,  five  or  six  miles  nearer  town, 
and  on  to  the  railroad.  And  it  was  a  rocky  ridge  if 
ever  there  was  one;  granite  outcroppings,  cobblestones, 
boulders,  anything  but  good  loose  soil  where  tracks 
might  be  followed.  A  dog  might  have  followed  a  trail 
there  before  the  scent  was  baked  out  by  blistering  heat ; 
but  Starr  certainly  could  not. 

He  stood  looking  across  to  where  the  smoke  curled 
up  into  the  intense  blue  of  the  sky.  If  a  man  wanted 
to  reach  the  Medina  ranch  by  the  most  obscure  route, 
he  thought,  this  would  be  one  way  to  get  there.  He 
went  back  to  where  the  automobile  had  stood  and 
searched  there  for  some  sign  of  those  who  had  ridden 
this  far.  But  if  any  man  left  that  machine,  he  had 
stepped  from  the  running  board  upon  rock,  and  so  had 
left  no  telltale  print  of  his  foot. 

"  And  that  looks  mighty  darn  queer,"  said  Starr, 
"  if  it  was  just  accidental.  But  if  a  fellow  wanted  to 
take  to  the  rocks  to  cover  his  trail,  why,  he  couldn't  pick 
a  better  place  than  this.  She's  a  dandy  ridge  and  a 


A  GREASE  SPOT  IN  THE  SAND     61 

dandy  way  to  get  up  on  her,  if  that's  what's  wanted." 
Starr  looked  at  his  watch  and  gave  up  all  hope  of 
catching  the  next  eastbound  train,  if  that  had  really 
been  his  purpose.  He  lifted  his  hat  and  drew  his  fin 
gers  across  his  forehead  where  the  perspiration  stood 
in  beads,  resettled  the  hat  at  an  angle  to  shade  his  face 
from  the  glare  of  the  sun,  ran  two  fingers  cursorily  be 
tween  the  cinch  and  Rabbit's  sweaty  body,  picked  up 
the  stirrup,  thrust  in  his  toe  and  eased  himself  up  into 
the  saddle ;  and  his  mind  had  not  consciously  directed  a 
single  movement. 

"Well,  they've  left  one  mark  behind  'em  that  fair 
hollers,'7  he  stated,  in  so  satisfied  a  tone  that  Rabbit 
turned  his  head  and  looked  back  at  him  inquiringly. 
Starr,  you  must  know,  was  not  given  to  satisfied  tones 
when  he  and  Rabbit  were  enduring  the  burden  of  heat 
and  long  miles.  "  And  you  needn't  give  me  that  kinda 
look,  neither.  Take  a  look  at  them  tire  tracks,  you  ole 
knot-head.  Them's  Silvertown  cords,  and  they  ain't 
equipping  jitneys  with  cord  tires  —  not  yet.  Why, 
yo're  whole  carcass  ain't  worth  the  price  uh  one  tire, 
let  alone  four,  you  old  sheep.  You  show  me  the  car 
in  this  country  that's  sportin'  Silvertowns  all  around, 
and  I'll  show  you  — " 

Just  what  he  would  show,  Starr  did  not  say,  because 
he  did  not  know.  But  there  was  something  there  which 


62         STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

might  be  called  a  mystery,  and  where  there  was  mystery 
there  was  Starr,  working  tirelessly  on  the  solution. 
This  might  be  a  trivial  thing;  but  until  he  knew  be 
yond  all  doubt  that  it  was  trivial,  Starr  pushed  other 
matters,  such  as  a  young  woman  afraid  of  a  horned 
toad,  out  of  his  mind  that  he  might  study  the  puzzle 
from  all  possible  angles. 


CHAPTEE  SIX 

"  DARN    SUCH    A    COUNTRY !  " 

HELEN"  MAY  stood  on  the  knobby,  brown  rock 
pinnacle  that  formed  the  head  of  Sunlight  Ba 
sin  and  stared  resentfully  out  over  the  baked  desert  and 
the  forbidding  hills  and  the  occasional  grassy  hollows 
that  stretched  away  and  away  to  the  skyline.  So  clear 
was  the  air  that  every  slope,  every  hollow,  every  acarpous 
hilltop  lay  pitilessly  revealed  to  her  unfriendly  eyes, 
until  the  sheer  immensity  of  distance  veiled  its  barren 
ness  in  a  haze  of  tender  violet.  The  sky  was  blue; 
deeply,  intensely  blue,  with  little  clouds  like  flakes  of 
bleached  cotton  floating  aimlessly  here  and  there.  In 
a  big,  wild,  unearthly  way  it  was  beautiful  beyond  any 
words  which  human  beings  have  coined. 

Helen  May  felt  its  bigness,  its  wildness,  perhaps  also 
its  beauty,  though  the  beauties  of  the  desert  land  do 
not  always  appeal  to  alien  eyes.  She  felt  its  bigness 
and  its  wildness ;  and  she  who  had  lived  the  cramped 
life  of  the  town  resented  both,  because  she  had  no  pre 
vious  experience  by  which  to  measure  any  part  of  it. 
Also,  she  summed  up  all  her  resentment  and  her  com- 


64         STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

plete  sense  of  bafflement  at  its  bigness  in  one  vehement 
sentence  that  lacked  only  one  word  of  being  a  curse. 

"  Darn  such  a  country !  "  is  what  she  said,  gritting  the 
words  between  her  teeth. 

"  See  anything  of  'em  ?  "  bellowed  Vic  from  the  spring 
below,  where  he  was  engaged  in  dipping  up  water  with  a 
tomato  can  and  pouring  it  over  his  head,  shivering  ecstat 
ically  as  the  cold  trickles  ran  down  his  neck. 

Helen  May  glanced  down  at  him  with  no  softening  of 
her  eyes.  Vic  had  lost  nine  goats  out  of  the  flock  he  had 
been  set  to  herd,  and  he  failed  to  manifest  any  great  con 
cern  over  the  loss.  On  the  contrary,  he  had  told  Helen 
May  that  he  wished  he  could  lose  the  whole  bunch,  and 
that  he  hoped  coyotes  had  eaten  them  up,  if  they  didn't 
have  sense  enough  to  stay  with  the  rest.  There  had  been 
a  heated  argument,  and  Helen  May  had  not  felt  sure  of 
coming  out  of  it  a  victor. 

"  No,  I  didn't,  and  you'd  better  get  back  to  work  or  the 
rest  will  be  gone,  too,"  she  called  down  to  him  petu 
lantly.  "  It's  bad  enough  to  lose  nine,  without  letting 
the  rest  go." 

"  Aw,  's  matter  with  yuh,  anyway  ?  "  Vic  retorted  in 
a  tone  he  thought  would  not  reach  her  ears.  "  By  gosh, 
you  don't  want  a  feller  to  cool  off,  even!  By  gosh, 
you'd  make  a  feller  sleep  with  them  darned  goats  if 
you  could  get  away  with  it !  Bu-lieve  me,  anybody 


"DARN  SUCH  A  COUNTRY!"     65 

can  have  my  job  that  wants  it.  7S  hot  enough  to  fry 
eggs  in  the  shade,  and  she  thinks,  by  hen,  that  I  oughta 
stay  out  there  — " 

"  Yes,  I  do.  And  if  you  want  anything  to  eat  to 
night,  Vic  Stevenson,  you  get  right  back  there  with 
those  goats!  They're  going  over  the  hill  this  minute. 
Hurry,  Vic!  For  heaven's  sake,  are  you  trying  to 
take  a  bath  in  that  can  ?  Climb  up  that  ridge  and  cut 
across  and  head  them  off!  That  old  Billy's  headed  for 
town  again  —  hurry !  " 

"  Aw  for  gosh  sake !  "  grumbled  Vic,  stooping  re 
luctantly  to  pick  up  the  old  hoe-handle  he  used  for  a 
staff.  "  What  ridge  ?  "  He  paused  to  thunder  up  at 
her,  his  voice  unexpectedly  changing  to  a  shrill  falsetto 
on  the  last  word,  as  frequently  happens  to  rob  a  man- 
cub  of  his  dignity  just  when  he  needs  it  most. 

"  That  ridge  before  your  face,  chump,"  Helen  May 
informed  him  crossly.  "  If  it  comes  to  choosing  be 
tween  goats  and  a  boy,  I'll  take  the  goats!  And  if 
there's  any  spot  on  the  face  of  the  earth  worse  than 
this,  I'd  like  to  know  where  it  is.  The  idea  of  expect 
ing  people  to  live  in  such  a  country!  It  looks  for  all 
the  world  like  magnified  pictures  of  the  moon's  sur 
face.  And,"  she  added  with  a  dreary  kind  of  vindic- 
tiveness,  "  it's  here,  and  I'm  here.  I  can't  get  away 
from  it  —  that's  the  dickens  of  it."  Then,  because 


66         STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

Helen  May  had  a  certain  impish  sense  of  humor,  she  sat 
down  and  laughed  at  the  incongruity  of  it  all.  "  Me 
—  me,  here  in  the  desert  trying  to  raise  goats!  Can 
you  beat  that  ?  " 

She  watched  Vic  toiling  up  the  ridge,  using  the  hoe- 
handle  with  a  slavish  dependence  upon  its  support  that 
tickled  Helen  May  again.  "You'd  think,"  she  told 
the  scenery  for  want  of  other  companionship,  "  you'd 
think  Vic  was  seventy-nine  years  old  at  the  very  least. 
Makes  a  difference  whether  he's  after  a  bunch  of  tame 
goats  or  hiking  with  a  bunch  of  boy  scouts  to  the  top 
of  Mount  Wilson!  I  don't  believe  that  kid  ever  did 
wear  his  legs  out  having  fun,  and  it's  a  sure  thing  he'll 
never  wear  them  out  working!  Say  goats  to  him  and 
he  actually  gets  round-shouldered  and  limps." 

Vic  disappeared  over  the  ridge  beyond  the  spring. 
Lower  down,  where  the  ridge  merged  into  the  Basin 
itself,  the  big  curly-horned  Billy  that  had  cost  Helen 
May  more  than  any  half  dozen  of  his  followers  stepped 
out  briskly  at  the  head  of  the  band.  Helen  May  won 
dered  what  new  depravity  was  in  his  mind,  and  whether 
Vic  would  cross  the  gully  he  was  in  and  confront  Billy 
in  time  to  change  the  one  idea  that  seemed  always  to 
possess  that  animal. 

Helen  May  did  not  know  how  vitally  important  it  is 
to  have  a  good  dog  at  such  work.  She  did  not  know 


"DARN  SUCH  A  COUNTRY!"     67 

that  Billy  and  his  band  felt  exactly  like  boys  who  have 
successfully  eluded  a  too  lax  teacher,  and  that  they 
would  have  yielded  without  argument  to  the  bark  of 
a  trained  sheep  dog.  She  had  set  Vic  a  harder  task 
than  she  realized;  a  task  from  which  any  experienced 
herder  would  have  shrunk.  In  her  ignorance  she 
blamed  Vic,  and  called  him  lazy  and  careless  and  a  few 
other  sisterly  epithets  which  he  did  not  altogether  de 
serve. 

She  watched  now,  impatient  because  he  was  so  long 
in  crossing  the  gully ;  telling  herself  that  he  was  trying 
to  see  how  slow  he  could  be,  and  that  he  did  it  just  to 
be  disagreeable  and  to  irritate  her  —  as  if  she  were 
there  of  her  own  desire,  and  had  bought  those  two  hun 
dred  miserable  goats  to  spite  him.  Harmony,  as  you 
must  see,  did  not  always  dwell  in  Sunlight  Basin. 

Eventually  Vic  toiled  up  the  far  side  of  the  gully, 
which  was  deep  and  as  hot  as  an  oven,  and  followed 
it  down  within  rock-throwing  distance  of  the  goats. 
A  well-aimed  pebble  struck  Billy  on  the  curve  of  one 
horn  and  halted  him,  the  band  huddling  vacant-eyed 
behind  him.  Vic  aimed  and  threw  another,  and  Billy, 
turning  his  whiskered  face  upward,  stared  with  resent 
ful  head-tossings  and  a  defiant  blat  or  two  before  he 
swerved  back  into  the  Basin,  his  band  and  Vic  plodding 
after. 


68         STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

"  Well,  for  a  wonder !  "  Helen  May  ejaculated  un 
graciously,  grudging  Vic  the  small  tribute  of  praise 
that  was  due  him.  But  she  was  immediately  ashamed 
of  that,  and  told  herself  that  it  was  pretty  hard  on 
the  poor  kid,  and  that  after  all  he  must  hate  the  country 
worse  than  she  did,  even,  which  would  certainly  mean 
a  good  deal;  and  that  she  supposed  he  missed  his  boy 
chums  just  as  much  as  she  missed  her  friends,  and 
found  it  just  as  hard  to  fit  himself  comfortably  into  a 
life  for  which  he  had  no  liking.  Besides,  it  wasn't 
his  health  that  had  shunted  them  both  out  here  into  the 
desert,  and  she  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  herself  for  treat 
ing  him  the  way  she  did. 

After  that  she  decided  that  it  was  her  business  to 
find  the  nine  goats  that  were  lost.  Vic  certainly  could 
not  do  both  at  once ;  and  deep  down  in  her  heart  Helen 
May  knew  that  she  was  terribly  afraid  of  Billy  and 
would  rather  trudge  the  desert  for  hours  under  the  hot 
sun  than  stay  in  the  Basin  watching  the  main  flock. 
She  wished  that  she  could  afford  to  hire  a  herder,  but 
she  shrunk  from  the  expense.  It  seemed  to  her  that 
she  and  Vic  should  be  able  to  herd  that  one  band,  espe 
cially  since  there  was  nothing  else  for  them  to  do  out 
there  except  cook  food  and  eat  it. 

Speaking  of  food,  it  seemed  to  take  an  enormous 
quantity  to  satisfy  the  hunger  of  two  persons.  Helen 


"  DARN  SUCH  A  COUNTRY !  "     69 

May  was  appalled  at  the  insatiable  appetite  of  Vic,  who 
seemed  never  to  have  enough  in  his  stomach.  As  for 
herself  —  well,  she  recalled  the  meal  she  had  just  eaten, 
and  wondered  how  it  could  be  possible  for  hunger  to 
seize  upon  her  so  soon  again.  But  even  so,  food  could 
not  occupy  all  of  their  time,  and  a  two-room  cabin 
does  not  take  much  keeping  in  order.  They  would 
simply  be  throwing  away  money  if  they  hired  a  herder, 
and  yet,  how  they  both  did  loathe  those  goats ! 

She  climbed  back  down  the  pinnacle,  watching  nerv 
ously  for  snakes  and  lizards  and  horned  toads  and  such 
denizens  of  the  desert.  With  a  certain  instinct  for 
preparing  against  the  worst,  she  took  a  two-quart  can 
teen,  such  as  soldiers  carry,  to  the  spring,  and  filled  it 
and  slung  it  over  her  shoulder.  She  went  to  the  cabin 
and  made  a  couple  of  sandwiches,  and  because  she  was 
not  altogether  inhuman  she  cut  two  thick  slices  of  bread, 
spread  them  lavishly  with  jam,  and  carried  them  to 
Vic  as  a  peace  offering. 

"  I'm  going  to  hunt  those  nasty  brutes,  Vic,"  she 
cried  from  a  safe  distance.  "  Come  here  and  get  this 
jam  sandwich,  and  lend  me  that  stick  you've  got.  And 
if  I  don't  get  back  by  five,  you  start  a  fire." 

"  Where  you  going  to  look  ?  If  you  couldn't  see 
'em  from  up  there,  I  don't  see  the  use  of  hunting." 
Vic  was  taking  long  steps  towards  the  sandwich,  and 


70         STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

he  stretched  his  sunburned  face  in  that  grin  which  might 
have  made  him  famous  in  comedy  had  fate  not  set  him 
down  before  his  present  ignoble  task.  "  Yuh  don't 
want  to  go  far,"  he  advised  her  perfunctorily.  "We 
ought  to  have  a  couple  of  saddle  horses.  Why  don't 
yuh  — " 

"  What  would  we  feed  them  on  ?  Besides  we've  got 
to  save  what  money  we've  got,  Vic.  We  can  walk  till 
these  insects  grow  wool  enough  to  pay  for  something 
to  ride  on." 

"  Hair,  you  mean.  I  can  get  a  gentle  horse  from 
that  Mexican  kid,  Luis.  He  good  as  offered  us  the 
one  —  that  I  borrowed  — "  Vic  was  giving  too  much 
attention  to  the  jam  sandwich  to  argue  very  coherently. 

"  There's  that  old  Billy  starting  off  again ;  you  watch 
him,  Vic.  Don't  let  him  get  a  start,  or  goodness  knows 
where  he'll  head  for  next.  We  can't  keep  a  horse,  I 
tell  you.  We  need  all  this  grass  for  the  goats." 

"  Oh,  darn  the  goats !  " 

In  her  heart  Helen  May  quite  agreed  with  the  senti 
ment,  but  she  could  not  consistently  betray  that  fact  to 
Vic.  She  therefore  turned  her  back  upon  him,  walk 
ing  down  the  trail  that  led  out  of  the  Basin  to  the  main 
trail  a  mile  away,  the  trail  which  was  the  link  connect 
ing  them  with  civilization  of  a  sort. 

Here  passed  the  depressed,  dust-covered  stage  three 


"DARN  SUCH  A  COUNTRY!"     71 

times  a  week.  Here,  in  a  macaroni  box  mounted  on  a 
post,  they  received  and  posted  their  mail.  Helen  May 
had  indulged  herself  in  a  subscription  to  the  Los  An 
geles  daily  paper  that  had  always  been  left  at  their 
door  every  morning,  the  paper  which  Peter  had  read 
hastily  over  his  morning  mush.  Every  paper  brought 
a  pang  of  homesickness  for  the  flower-decked  city  of 
her  birth,  but  she  felt  as  though  she  could  not  have  kept 
her  sanity  without  it.  The  full-page  bargain  ads  she 
read  hungrily.  The  weekly  announcements  of  the 
movie  shows,  the  news,  the  want  columns  —  these  were 
at  once  her  solace  and  her  torment;  and  if  you  have 
ever  been  exiled,  you  know  what  that  means. 

Here,  too,  she  left  her  shopping  list  and  money  for 
the  stage  driver,  who  bought  what  she  needed  and  left 
the  goods  at  the  foot  of  the  post,  and  what  money  re 
mained  in  a  buckskin  bag  in  the  macaroni  box. 

An  obliging  stage  driver  was  he,  a  tobacco  chewing, 
red-faced,  red-whiskered  stage  driver  who  nagged  at 
his  four  horses  incessantly  and  never  was  known  to 
beat  one  of  them ;  a  garrulous,  soft-hearted  stage  driver 
who  understood  very  well  how  lonely  these  two  young 
folks  must  be,  and  who  therefore  had  some  moth-eaten 
joke  ready  for  whoever  might  be  waiting  for  him  at  the 
macaroni  box.  Whenever  Helen  May  apologized  for 
the  favor  she  must  ask  of  him  —  which  was  every 


72         STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

time  she  handed  him  a  list  —  the  stage  driver  invari 
ably  gave  a  nasal  kind  of  snort,  spat  far  out  over  the 
wheel,  and  declared  pettishly: 

"It  ain't  a  mite  uh  trouble  in  the  world.  That's 
what  I'm  fur  —  to  help  folks  out  along  my  rowt. 
Don't  you  worry  a  mite  about  that."  Often  as  he  said 
it,  he  yet  gave  it  the  tone  of  sincerity  and  of  convincing 
freshness,  as  though  he  had  never  before  given  the  mat 
ter  a  thought.  Helen  May  did  not  know  what  she 
would  have  done  without  that  stage  driver  to  bridge  the 
gulf  between  Sunlight  Basin  and  the  world. 

But  this  was  not  stage  day.  That  is  to  say,  the 
stage  had  passed  to  the  far  side  of  its  orbit,  and  would 
not  return  until  to-morrow.  From  San  Bonito  it  swung 
in  a  day-long  journey  across  the  desert  to  Malpais, 
thence  by  a  different  route  to  San  Bonito  again,  so  that 
Helen  May  never  saw  it  returning  whence  it  had  come. 

A  cloud  of  desert  dust  always  heralded  its  approach 
from  the  east.  Sometimes  after  the  first  dust  signal, 
it  took  him  nearly  an  hour  to  top  the  low  ridge  which 
was  really  one  rim  of  the  Basin.  Then  Helen  May 
would  know  that  he  carried  passengers  or  freight  that 
straightened  the  backs  of  the  straining  four  horses  in 
the  long  stretch  of  sand  beyond  the  ridge  and  made 
their  progress  slow. 

But  to-day  there  was  no  dust  signal,  and  the  maca- 


"DARN  SUCH  A  COUNTRY!"     73 

roni  box  was  but  a  dismal  reminder  of  her  exile.  The 
world  was  very  far  away,  behind  the  violet  rim  of 
mountains,  and  she  was  just  a  speck  in  the  desert. 
Her  high  laced  boots  were  heavy,  and  the  dust  settled 
in  the  creases  around  her  slim  ankles,  that  could  be 
perfectly  fascinating  in  silken  hose  and  dainty  slippers. 
Her  khaki  skirt,  of  the  divided  kind  much  affected  by 
tourists,  had  lost  two  big,  pearl  buttons,  and  she  had 
no  others  to  replace  them.  Her  shirt-waist  had  its 
collar  turned  inside  for  coolness,  and  the  hollow  of  her 
neck  was  sun-blistered  and  beginning  to  peel.  Also 
her  nose  and  her  neck  at  the  sides  were  showing  a  dis 
position  to  grow  new  skin  for  old.  So  much  had  the 
desert  sun  done  for  her. 

But  there  was  something  else  which  the  desert  had 
done,  something  which  Helen  May  did  not  fully  realize. 
It  had  put  a  clear,  steady  look  into  her  eyes  in  place  of 
the  glassy  shine  of  fever.  It  was  beginning  to  fill  out 
that  hollow  in  her  neck,  so  that  it  no  longer  showed  the 
angular  ends  of  her  collar  bones.  It  had  put  a  resili 
ent  quality  into  her  walk,  firmness  into  the  poise  of  her 
head.  It  had  made  it  physically  possible,  for  instance, 
for  Helen  May  to  trudge  out  into  the  wild  to  hunt  nine 
goats  that  had  strayed  from  the  main  band. 

Though  she  did  not  know  it,  a  certain  dream  of 
Peter's  had  very  nearly  come  true.  For  here  were  the 


74         STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

vast  plains,  unpeopled,  pure,  immutable  in  their  mag 
nificent  calm.  At  night  the  stars  seemed  to  come  down 
and  hang  just  over  Helen  May's  head.  There  was  the 
little  cottage  of  which  Peter  had  dreamed  —  only  Helen 
May  called  it  a  miserable  little  shack  —  hunched  against 
a  hill ;  sometimes  a  light  winked  through  the  window  at 
the  stars;  sometimes  Helen  May  was  startled  at  the 
nearness  and  the  shrill  insistence  of  the  coyotes.  Here 
as  Peter  had  dreamed  so  longingly  and  so  hopelessly, 
were  distance  and  quiet  and  calm.  And  here  was 
Helen  May  coming  through  the  sunlight  —  Peter  never 
dreamed  how  hot  it  would  be !  —  with  her  deep-gold 
hair  tousled  in  the  wind  and  with  the  little  red  spots 
gone  from  her  cheeks  and  with  health  in  her  eyes  that 
were  the  color  of  ripe  chestnuts.  When  her  skin  had 
adjusted  itself  to  the  rigors  of  the  climate,  she  would 
no  doubt  have  freckles  on  her  nose,  just  as  Peter  had 
dreamed  she  might  have.  And  if  she  were  walking, 
instead  of  riding  the  gentle-eyed  pony  which  Peter  had 
pictured,  that  was  not  Peter's  fault,  nor  the  fault  of 
the  dream.  There  was  no  laugh  on  her  lips,  however. 
Dreams  are  always  pulling  a  veil  of  idealism  over  the 
face  of  reality,  and  so  Helen  May's  face  was  not  happy, 
as  Peter  had  dreamed  it  might  be,  but  petulant  and 
grimly  determined;  her  ripe-red  lips  were  moving  in 
anathemas  directed  at  nine  detested  goats. 


"DARN  SUCH  A  COUNTRY!"     75 

Peter  could  never  have  dreamed  just  that,  but  all 
the  same  it  is  a  pity  that,  in  order  to  make  the  dream 
a  reality,  Peter  had  been  forced  to  deny  himself  the  joy 
of  seeing  Helen  May  growing  strong  in  "  Arizona,  New 
Mexico,  or  Colorado."  It  would  have  made  the  price 
he  paid  seem  less  terrible,  less  tragic. 


CHAPTER  SEVEN 

MOONLIGHT,    A    MAN    AND    A    SONG 

JUST  out  from  the  entrance  to  a  deep,  broad-bot 
tomed  arrojo  where  an  automobile  had  been,  Starr 
came  upon  something  that  surprised  him  very  much, 
and  it  was  not  at  all  easy  to  surprise  Starr.  Here,  in 
the  first  glory  of  a  flaming  sunset  that  turned  the  desert 
to  a  sea  of  unearthly,  opal-tinted  beauty,  he  came  upon 
Helen  May,  trudging  painfully  along  with  an  old  hoe- 
handle  for  a  staff,  and  driving  nine  reluctant  nanny 
goats  that  alternately  trotted  and  stood  still  to  stare  at 
the  girl  with  foolish,  amber-colored  eyes. 

Starr  was  trained  to  long  desert  distances,  but  his 
training  had  made  it  second  nature  to  consider  a  horse 
the  logical  means  of  covering  those  distances.  To  find 
Helen  May  away  out  here,  eight  miles  and  more  from 
Sunlight  Basin,  and  to  find  her  walking,  shocked  Starr 
unspeakably;  shocked  him  out  of  his  shyness  and  into 
free  speech  with  her,  as  though  he  had  known  her  a 
long  while. 

"  Y?  lost  ?  "  was  his  first  greeting,  while  he  instinct- 


A  MAN  AND  A  SONG  77 

ively  swung  Kabbit  to  head  off  a  goat  that  suddenly 
"  broke  back  "  from  the  others. 

Helen  May  looked  up  at  him  with  relief  struggling 
through  the  apathy  of  utter  weariness.  "  No,  but  I 
might  as  well  be.  I'll  never  be  able  to  get  home  alive, 
anyhow."  She  shook  the  hoe-handle  menacingly  at  a 
hesitating  goat  and  quite  suddenly  collapsed  upon  the 
nearest  rock,  and  began  to  cry;  not  sentimentally  or 
weakly  or  in  any  other  feminine  manner  known  to  Starr, 
but  with  an  angry  recklessness  that  was  like  opening 
a  safety  valve.  Helen  May  herself  did  not  understand 
why  she  should  go  along  for  half  a  day  calmly  enough, 
and  then,  the  minute  this  man  rode  up  and  spoke  to 
her  sympathetically,  she  should  want  to  sit  down  and 
cry. 

"  I  just  —  I've  been  walking  since  one  o'clock !  If  I 
had  a  gun,  I'd  shoot  every  one  of  them.  I  just  —  I 
think  goats  are  simply  damnable  things !  " 

Starr  turned  and  looked  at  the  animals  disapprov 
ingly.  "  They  sure  are,"  he  assented  comfortingly. 
"  Where  you  trying  to  take  ?em  —  or  ain't  you  ?  "  he 
asked,  with  the  confidence-inviting  tone  that  made  him 
so  valuable  to  those  who  paid  for  his  services. 

"  Home,  if  you  can  call  it  that !  "  Helen  May  found 
her  handkerchief  and  proceeded  to  wipe  the  tears  and 
the  dust  off  her  cheeks.  She  looked  at  Starr  more 


78         STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

attentively  than  at  first  when  he  had  been  just  a  human 
being  who  seemed  friendly.  "  Oh,  you're  the  man  that 
stopped  at  the  spring.  Well,  you  know  where  I  live, 
then.  I  was  hunting  these;  they  wandered  off  and  Vic 
couldn't  find  them  yesterday,  so  I  —  it  was  just  acci 
dent  that  I  came  across  them.  I  followed  some  tracks, 
and  it  looked  to  me  as  if  they'd  been  driven  off.  There 
were  horse  tracks.  That's  what  made  me  keep  going  — 
I  was  so  mad.  And  now  they  won't  go  home  or  any 
where  else.  They  just  want  to  run  around  every  which 
way." 

Starr  looked  up  the  arroyo,  hesitating.  On  the  edge 
of  San  Bonito  he  had  picked  up  the  track  of  Silvertown 
cord  tires,  and  he  had  followed  it  to  the  mouth  of  this 
arroyo.  From  certain  signs  easy  for  an  experienced 
man  to  read,  he  had  known  the  track  was  fairly  fresh, 
fresh  enough  to  make  it  worth  his  while  to  follow.  And 
now  here  was  a  girl  all  tired  out  and  a  long  way  from 
home. 

"  Here,  you  climb  onto  Rabbit.  He's  gentle  when 
he  knows  it's  all  right,  and  I  won't  stand  for  him  act 
ing  up."  Starr  swung  off  beside  her.  "  I'll  help  get 
the  goats  home.  Where's  your  dog  ?  " 

"  I  haven't  any  dog.  The  man  we  bought  the  goats 
from  wanted  to  sell  me  one,  to  help  herd  them,  he  said. 
But  he  asked  twenty-five  dollars  for  it  —  I  suppose  he 


A  MAN  AND  A  SONG  79 

thought  because  I  looked  green  I'd  stand  for  that !  — 
and  I  wouldn't  be  held  up  that  way.  Vic  and  I  have 
nothing  to  do  but  watch  them.  You  —  you  mustn't 
bother/'  she  added  half-heartedly.  "  I  can  get  them 
home  all  right.  I'm  rested  now,  and  there's  a  moon, 
you  know.  Really,  I  can't  let  you  bother  about  it.  I 
know  the  way." 

"  Put  your  foot  in  the  stirrup  and  climb  on.  You, 
Eabbit,  you  stand  still,  or  I'll  beat  the  — " 

"  Really,  you  mustn't  think,  because  I  cried  a  little 
bit—" 

"  Pile  on  to  him  now,  while  I  hold  him  still.  Or  shall 
I  pick  you  up  and  put  you  on  ?  "  Starr  smiled  while 
he  said  it,  but  there  was  a  look  in  his  eyes  and  around 
his  mouth  that  made  Helen  May  yield  suddenly. 

By  her  awkwardness  Starr  and  Rabbit  both  knew 
that  she  had  probably  never  before  attempted  to  mount 
a  horse.  By  the  set  of  her  lips  Starr  knew  that  she  was 
afraid,  but  that  she  would  break  her  neck  before  she 
would  confess  her  fear.  He  liked  her  for  that,  and 
he  was  glad  to  see  that  Rabbit  understood  the  case  and 
drew  upon  his  reserve  of  patience  and  good  nature, 
standing  like  a  rock  until  Helen  May  was  settled  in  the 
saddle  and  Starr  had  turned  the  stirrups  on  their  sides 
in  the  leather  so  that  they  would  come  nearer  being  the 
right  length  for  her.  Starr's  hand  sliding  affectionately 


80         STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

up  Eabbit's  neck  and  resting  a  moment  on  his  jaw  was 
all  the  assurance  Rabbit  needed  that  everything  was  all 
right. 

"  !Now,  just  leave  the  reins  loose,  and  let  Rabbit 
come  along  to  please  himself,"  Starr  instructed  her 
quietly.  "  He'll  follow  me,  and  he'll  pick  his  own  trail. 
You  don't  have  to  do  a  thing  but  sit  there  and  take  it 
easy.  He'll  do  the  rest." 

Helen  May  looked  at  him  doubtfully,  but  she  did  not 
say  anything.  She  braced  herself  in  the  stirrups,  took 
a  firm  grip  of  the  saddlehorn  with  one  hand,  and  waited 
for  what  might  befall.  She  had  no  fear  of  Starr,  no 
further  uneasiness  over  the  coming  night,  the  loneli 
ness,  the  goats,  or  anything  else.  She  felt  as  irrespon 
sible,  as  safe,  as  any  sheltered  woman  in  her  own  home. 
I  did  not  say  she  felt  serene ;  she  did  not  know  yet  how 
the  horse  would  perform;  but  she  seemed  to  lay  that 
responsibility  also  on  Starr's  capable  shoulders. 

They  moved  off  quietly  enough,  Starr  afoot  and  driv 
ing  the  goats,  Rabbit  picking  his  way  after  him  in 
leisurely  fashion.  So  they  crossed  the  arroyo  mouth 
and  climbed  the  ragged  lip  of  its  western  side  and  trav 
eled  straight  toward  the  flaming  eye  of  the  sun  that 
seemed  now  to  have  winked  itself  nearly  shut.  The 
goats  for  some  inexplicable  reason  showed  no  further 
disposition  to  go  in  nine  different  directions  at  once. 


A  MAN  AND  A  SONG  81 

Helen  May  relaxed  from  her  stiff-muscled  posture  and 
began  to  experiment  a  little  with  the  reins. 

"  Why,  he  steers  easier  than  an  automobile !  "  she  ex 
claimed  suddenly.  "  You  just  think  which  way  you 
want  to  go,  almost,  and  he  does  it.  And  you  don't  have 
to  pull  the  lines  the  least  bit,  do  you  ? " 

Starr  delayed  his  answer  until  he  had  made  sure  that 
she  was  not  irritating  Eabbit  with  a  too-officious  guid 
ance.  When  he  saw  that  she  was  holding  the  reins 
loosely  as  he  had  told  her  to  do,  and  was  merely  laying 
the  weight  of  a  rein  on  one  side  of  the  neck  and  then 
on  the  other,  he  smiled. 

"  I  guess  you've  rode  before,"  he  hazarded.  "  The 
way  you  neck-rein  — " 

"  ]STo,  honest.  But  my  chum's  brother  had  a  big  six, 
and  Sundays  he  used  to  let  me  fuss  with  it,  away  out 
where  the  road  was  clear.  It  steered  just  like  this 
horse;  just  as  easy,  I  mean.  I  —  why,  see!  I  just 
wondered  if  he'd  go  to  the  right  of  that  bush,  and  he 
turned  that  way  just  as  if  I'd  told  him  to.  Can  you 
beat  that  ?  " 

Starr  did  not  say.  Naturally,  since  she  was  a  girl, 
and  pretty,  and  since  he  was  human,  he  was  busy  won 
dering  what  her  chum's  brother  was  like.  He  picked 
up  a  small  rock  and  shied  it  at  a  goat  that  was  not  doing 
a  thing  that  it  shouldn't  do,  and  felt  better.  He  remem- 


82         STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

bered  then  that  at  any  rate  her  chum's  brother  was  a 
long  way  off,  and  that  he  himself  had  nothing  much  to 
complain  of  right  now.  Then  Helen  May  spoke  again 
and  shifted  his  thoughts  to  another  subject. 

"  I  believe  I'd  rather  have  a  horse  like  this,"  she 
said,  "than  own  that  big,  lovely  take-me-to-glory  car 
that  was  pathfinding  around  like  a  million  dollars,  a 
little  while  ago.  I'll  own  up  now  that  I  was  weeping 
partly  because  four  great  big  porky  men  could  ride 
around  on  cushions  a  foot  thick,  while  a  perfectly  nice 
girl  had  to  plough  through  the  sand  afoot.  The  way 
they  skidded  past  me  and  buried  me  in  a  cloud  of  dust 
made  me  mad  enough  to  throw  rocks  after  them.  Pigs ! 
They  never  even  stopped  to  ask  if  I  wanted  a  ride  or 
anything.  They  all  glared  at  me  through  their  goggles 
as  if  I  hadn't  any  business  walking  on  their  desert." 

"  Did  you  know  them  ?  "  Starr  came  and  walked  be 
side  her,  glancing  frequently  at  her  face. 

"  No,  of  course  I  didn't.  I  don't  know  anybody  but 
the  stage  driver.  I  wouldn't  have  ridden  with  them, 
anyway.  From  what  I  saw  of  them  they  looked  like 
Mexicans.  But  you'd  think  they  might  have  shown 
some  interest,  wouldn't  you  ? " 

"  I  sure  would,"  Starr  stated  with  emphasis.  "  What 
kinda  car  was  it,  did  you  notice  ?  Maybe  I  know  who 
they  are." 


A  MAN  AND  A  SONG  83 

"Oh,  it  was  a  great  big  black  car.  They  went  by 
so  fast  and  I  was  so  tired  and  hot  and  —  and  pretty 
near  swearing  mad,  I  didn't  notice  the  number  at  all. 
And  they  were  glaring  at  me,  and  I  was  glaring  at 
them,  and  then  the  driver  stepped  on  the  accelerator 
just  at  a  little  crook  in  the  road,  and  the  hind  wheels 
skidded  about  a  ton  of  sand  into  my  face  and  they  were 
gone,  like  they  were  running  from  a  speed  cop.  I'd 
much  rather  have  a  nice  little  automatic  pony  like  this 
one,"  she  added  feelingly.  "  You  don't  have  to  bundle 
yourself  up  in  dusters  and  goggles  and  things  when  you 
take  a  ride,  do  you  ?  It  —  it  makes  the  bigness  of  the 
country,  and  the  barrenness  of  it,  somehow  fit  together 
and  take  you  into  the  pattern,  when  you  ride  a  horse 
over  it,  don't  you  think  ?  " 

"  I  guess  so,"  Starr  assented,  with  an  odd  little  slur 
ring  accent  on  the  last  word  which  gave  the  trite  sen 
tence  an  individual  touch  that  appealed  to  Helen  May. 
"  It  don't  seem  natural,  somehow,  to  walk  in  a  country 
like  this," 

"  Oh,  and  you've  got  to,  while  I  ride  your  horse ! 
Or,  have  you  got  to?  Is  it  just  movie  stuif,  where  a 
man  rides  behind  on  a  horse,  and  lets  the  girl  ride  in 
front?  I  mean,  is  it  feasible,  or  just  a  stunt  for  pic 
tures  ? " 

"  Depends  on  the  horse,"  Starr  evaded.     "  It's  got 


84         STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

the  say-so,  mostly,  whether  it'll  pack  one  person  or 
two.  Rabbit  will,  and  when  I  get  tired  walking,  I'll 
ride." 

"  Oh,  that  makes  it  better.  I  wasn't  feeling  comfort 
able  riding,  but  men  are  so  queer  about  thinking  they 
must  give  a  woman  all  the  choice  bits  of  comfort,  and 
a  woman  has  to  give  in  or  row  about  it.  If  you'll  climb 
up  and  ride  when  you  feel  like  it,  I'll  just  settle  down 
and  enjoy  myself." 

Settling  down  and  enjoying  herself  seemed  to  consist 
of  gazing  out  over  the  desert  and  the  hills  and  up  at  the 
sky  that  was  showing  the  deep  purple  of  dusk.  It  was 
what  Starr  wanted  most  of  all,  just  then,  for  it  left  him 
free  to  study  what  she  had  told  him  of  the  big  black 
automobile  with  four  coated  and  goggled  men  who  had 
looked  like  Mexicans ;  four  men  who  had  glared  at  her 
and  then  had  speeded  up  to  get  away  from  her  possible 
scrutiny. 

For  the  first  time  since  she  had  seen  it  from  the  spring 
seat  of  a  jolting  wagon  from  the  one  livery  stable  in 
Malpais,  Helen  May  discovered  that  this  wild,  strange 
land  was  beautiful.  For  the  first  time  she  gloried  in 
its  bigness  and  its  wildness,  and  did  not  resent  its  bar 
renness.  The  little  brown  birds  that  fluttered  close  to 
the  ground  and  cheeped  wistfully  to  one  another  in  the 
dusk  gave  her  an  odd,  sweet  thrill  of  companionship. 


A  MAN  AND  A  SONG  85 

Jack  rabbits  sitting  up  on  their  hind  legs  for  a  brief 
scrutiny  before  they  scurried  away  made  her  laugh  to 
herself.  The  reddened  clouds  that  rimmed  the  purple 
were  the  radiant  shores  of  a  wonderful,  bottomless  sea, 
where  the  stars  were  the  mast  lights  on  ships  hull  down 
in  the  distance.  She  lifted  her  chest  and  drew  in  long 
breaths  of  clean,  sweet  air  that  is  like  no  other  air,  and 
she  remembered  all  at  once  that  she  had  not  coughed 
since  daylight.  She  breathed  again,  deep  and  long,  and 
felt  that  she  was  drawing  some  wonderful,  healing  ether 
into  her  lungs. 

She  looked  at  Starr,  walking  steadily  along  before 
her,  swinging  the  hoe-handle  lightly  in  his  right  hand, 
setting  his  feet  down  in  the  smoothest  spots  always  and 
leaving  nearly  always  a  clear  imprint  of  his  foot  in  the 
sandy  soil.  There  was  a  certain  fascination  in  watch 
ing  the  lines  of  footprints  he  left  behind  him.  She 
would  know  those  footprints  anywhere,  she  told  herself. 
Small  for  a  man,  they  were,  and  well-shaped,  with  the 
toes  pointing  out  the  least  little  bit,  and  with  no  blurring 
drag  when  he  lifted  his  feet.  She  did  not  know  that 
Starr  wore  riding  boots  made  to  his  measure  and  cost 
ing  close  to  twenty  dollars  a  pair ;  if  she  had  she  would 
not  have  wondered  at  the  fine  shape  of  them,  or  at  the 
individuality  of  the  imprint  they  made.  She  conceived 
the  belief  that  Babbit  knew  those  footprints  also.  She 


86         STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

amused  herself  by  watching  how  carefully  the  horse 
followed  wherever  they  led.  If  Starr  stepped  to  the 
right  to  avoid  a  rock,  Rabbit  stepped  to  the  right  to 
avoid  that  rock ;  never  to  the  left,  though  the  way  might 
be  as  smooth  and  open.  If  Starr  crossed  a  gully  at  a 
certain  place,  Rabbit  followed  scrupulously  the  tracks 
he  made.  Helen  May  considered  that  this  little  gray 
horse  showed  really  human  intelligence. 

She  realized  the  deepening  dusk  only  when  Starr's 
form  grew  vague  and  she  could  no  longer  see  the  prints 
his  boots  made.  They  were  nearing  the  brown,  lumpy 
ridge  which  hid  Sunlight  Basin  from  the  plain,  but 
Helen  May  was  not  particularly  eager  to  reach  it.  For 
the  first  time  she  forgot  the  gnawing  heart-hunger  of 
homesickness,  and  was  content  with  her  present  sur 
roundings  ;  content  even  with  the  goats  that  trotted  sub- 
misively  ahead  of  Starr. 

When  a  soft  radiance  drifted  into  the  darkness  and 
made  it  a  luminous,  thin  veil,  Helen  May  gave  a  little 
cry  and  looked  back.  Since  her  hands  moved  with  the 
swing  of  her  shoulders,  Rabbit  turned  sharply  and  faced 
the  way  she  was  looking,  startled,  displeased,  but  obedi 
ent.  Starr  stopped  abruptly  and  turned  back,  coming 
close  up  beside  her. 

"  What's  wrong  ?  "  he  asked  in  an  undertone.  "  See 
anything  ? " 


A  MAN  AND  A  SONG  87 

"  The  moon,"  Helen  May  gave  a  hushed  little  laugh. 
"  I'd  forgotten  —  forgotten  I  was  alive,  almost.  I  was 
just  soaking  in  the  beauty  of  it  through  every  pore. 
And  then  it  got  dark  so  I  couldn't  see  your  footprints 
any  more,  and  then  such  a  queer,  beautiful  look  came 
on  everything.  I  turned  to  look,  and  this  little  auto 
matic  pony  turned  to  look,  too.  But  —  isn't  it  wonder 
ful  ?  Everything,  I  mean.  Just  everything  —  the 
whole  world  and  the  stars  and  the  sky  — : 

Starr  lifted  an  arm  and  laid  it  over  Babbit's  neck, 
fingering  the  silver-white  mane  absently.  It  brought 
him  quite  close  to  Helen  May,  so  that  she  could  have 
put  her  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"  Yes.  It's  wonderful  —  when  it  ain't  terrible,"  he 
said,  his  voice  low. 

After  a  silent  minute  she  answered  him,  in  the  hushed 
tone  that  seemed  most  in  harmony  with  the  tremendous 
sweep  of  sky  and  that  great  stretch  of  plain  and  bare 
mountain.  "  I  see  what  you  mean.  It  is  terrible  even 
when  it's  most  wonderful.  But  one  little  human  alone 
with  it  would  be  — " 

"  Sh-sh,"  he  whispered.  "  Listen  a  minute.  Did 
you  ever  hear  a  big  silence  like  this  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  breathed  eagerly.     «  Sh-sh  — " 

At  first  there  was  nothing  save  the  whisper  of  a  breeze 
that  stirred  the  greasewood  and  then  was  still.  Full  in 


88         STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

their  faces  the  moon  swung  clear  of  the  mountains  be 
hind  San  Bonito  and  hung  there,  a  luminous  yellow  ball 
in  the  deep,  star-sprinkled  purple.  Across  the  desert  it 
flueg  a  faint,  straight  pathway  in  the  sand.  Rabbit 
gave  a  long  sigh,  turned  his  head  to  look  back  at  his 
master,  and  then  stood  motionless  again.  Far  on  a 
hilltop  a  coyote  pointed  his  nose  to  the  moon  and  yap- 
yap-yapped,  with  a  shrill,  long-drawn  tremolo  wail  that 
made  the  girl  catch  her  breath.  Behind  them  the  nine 
goats  moved  closer  together  and  huddled  afraid  beside 
a  clump  of  bushes.  The  little  breeze  whispered  again. 
A  night  bird  called  in  a  hurried,  frightened  way,  and 
upon  the  last  notes  came  the  eerie  cry  of  a  little  night 
owl. 

The  girl's  face  was  uplifted,  delicately  lighted  by  the 
moon.  Her  eyes  shone  dark  with  those  fluttering,  sweet 
wraiths  of  thoughts  which  we  may  not  prison  in  speech, 
which  words  only  deaden  and  crush  into  vapid  senti- 
mentalism.  Life,  held  in  a  great  unutterable  calm, 
seemed  to  lie  out  there  in  the  radiant,  vague  distance, 
asleep  and  smiling  cryptically  while  it  slept. 

Her  eyes  turned  to  Starr,  whose  name  she  did  not 
know;  who  had  twice  come  riding  out  of  the  distance 
to  do  her  some  slight  service  before  he  rode  on  into  the 
distance  that  seemed  so  vast.  Who  was  he  ?  What 
petty  round  of  duties  and  pleasures  made  up  his  daily, 


A  MAN  AND  A  SONG  89 

intimate  life?  She  did  not  know.  She  did  not  feel 
the  need  of  knowing. 

Standing  there  with  his  thin  face  turned  to  the  moon 
so  that  she  saw,  clean-cut  against  the  night,  his  strong 
profile;  with  one  arm  thrown  across  the  neck  of  his 
horse  and  his  big  hat  tilted  back  so  that  she  could  see 
the  heavy,  brown  hair  that  framed  his  fine  forehead; 
with  the  look  of  a  dreamer  in  his  eyes  and  the  wistful- 
ness  of  the  lonely  on  his  lips,  all  at  once  he  seemed  to 
be  a  part  of  the  desert  and  its  mysteries. 

She  could  picture  him  living  alone  somewhere  in  its 
wild  fastness,  aloof  from  the  little  things  of  life.  He 
seemed  to  epitomize  vividly  the  meaning  of  a  song  she 
had  often  sung  unmeaningly: 

"  From  the  desert  I  come  to  thee, 
On  my  Arab  shod  with  fire; 
And  the  winds  are  left  behind 
In  the  speed  of  my  desire." 

While  she  looked  —  while  the  words  of  that  old 
Bedouin  Love  Song  thrummed  through  her  memory, 
quite  suddenly  Starr  began  to  sing,  taking  up  the  song 
where  her  memory  had  brought  her : 

"  Till    the    sun    grows    cold, 
And  the  stars  are  old, 
And  the  leaves  of  the  Judgment 
Book   unfold!  " 


90         STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

Softly  he  sang,  as  though  he  had  forgotten  that  she 
was  there.  Softly,  but  with  a  resonant,  vibrating  qual 
ity  that  made  the  words  alive  and  quivering  with  mean 
ing. 

Helen  May  caught  her  breath.  How  did  he  know  she 
was  thinking  that  song?  How  did  he  chance  to  take 
it  up  just  at  the  point  where  her  memory  had  carried 
it?  Had  he  read  her  mind?  She  stared  at  him,  her 
lips  parted ;  wondering,  a  little  awed,  but  listening  and 
thrilling  to  the  human  sweetness  of  his  tones.  And 
when  he  had  sung  the  last  yearning  note  of  primitive 
desire,  Starr  turned  his  head  and  looked  into  her 
eyes. 

Helen  May  felt  as  though  he  had  taken  her  in  his 
arms  and  kissed  her  lingeringly.  Yet  he  had  not  moved 
except  to  turn  his  face  toward  her.  She  could  not  look 
away,  could  not  even  try  to  pull  her  eyes  from  his.  It 
was  as  though  she  yielded.  She  felt  suffocated,  though 
her  breath  came  quickly,  a  little  unevenly. 

Starr  looked  away,  across  the  desert  where  the  moon 
lighted  it  whitely.  It  was  as  though  he  had  released 
her.  She  felt  flustered,  disconcerted.  She  could  not 
understand  herself  or  him,  or  the  primary  forces  that 
had  moved  them  both.  And  why  had  he  sung  that 
Bedouin  Love  Song  just  as  she  was  thinking  it  as  some 
thing  that  explained  him  and  identified  him?  It  was 


A  MAN  AND  A  SONG  91 

mysterious  as  the  desert  itself  lying  there  so  quiet  un 
der  the  moon.  It  was  weird  as  the  cry  of  the  coyote. 
It  was  uncanny  as  spirit  rappings.  But  she  could  not 
feel  any  resentment;  only  a  thrill  that  was  part  pleas 
ure  and  part  pain.  She  wrondered  if  he  had  felt  the 
same ;  if  he  knew.  But  she  could  not  bring  herself  to 
face  even  the  thought  of  asking  him.  It  was  like  the 
night  silence  around  them:  speech  would  dwarf  and 
cheapen  and  distort. 

Rabbit  lifted  his  head  again,  perking  his  ears  forward 
toward  a  new  sound  that  had  nothing  weird  or  mysteri 
ous  about  it ;  a  sound  that  was  essentially  earthly,  mate 
rial,  modern,  the  distant  purr  of  a  high-powered  automo 
bile  on  the  trail  away  to  their  right.  Starr  turned  his 
face  that  way,  listening  as  the  horse  listened.  It  seemed 
to  Helen  May  as  though  he  had  become  again  earthy  and 
material  and  modern,  with  the  desert  love  song  but  the 
fading  memory  of  a  dream.  He  listened,  and  she  re 
ceived  the  impression  that  something  more  than  idle 
curiosity  held  him  intent  upon  the  sound. 

The  purring  persisted,  lessened,  grew  louder  again. 
Starr  still  looked  that  way,  listening  intently.  The  ma 
chine  swept  nearer,  so  that  the  clear  night  air  carried 
the  sounds  distinctly  to  where  they  stood.  Starr  even 
caught  the  humming  of  the  rear  gears  and  knew  that 
only  now  and  then  does  a  machine  have  that  peculiar, 


92         STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

droning  hum;  Starr  studied  it,  tried  to  impress  the 
sound  upon  his  memory. 

The  trail  looped  around  the  head  of  a  sandy  draw  and 
wound  over  the  crest  of  a  low  ridge  before  it  straight 
ened  out  for  a  three-mile  level  run  in  the  direction  of 
San  Bonito,  miles  away.  In  walking,  Starr  had  cut 
straight  across  that  gully  and  the  loop,  so  that  they  had 
crossed  the  trail  twice  in  their  journey  thus  far,  and 
were  still  within  half  a  mile  of  the  head  of  the  loop. 
They  should  have  been  able  to  see  the  lights,  or  at  least 
the  reflection  of  them  on  the  ridge  when  they  came  to 
the  draw.  But  there  was  no  bright  path  on  sky  or 
earth. 

They  heard  the  car  ease  down  the  hill,  heard  the 
grind  of  the  gears  as  the  driver  shifted  to  the  intermedi 
ate  for  the  climb  that  came  after.  They  heard  the  chug 
of  the  engine  taking  the  steep  grade.  Then  they  should 
have  caught  the  white  glare  of  the  headlights  as  the  car 
topped  the  ridge.  Starr  knew  that  nothing  obstructed 
the  view,  that  in  daylight  they  could  have  seen  the  yel 
low-brown  ribbon  of  trail  where  it  curved  over  the  ridge. 
The  machine  was  coming  directly  toward  them  for  a 
short  distance,  but  there  was  no  light  whatever.  Starr 
knew  then  that  whoever  they  were,  they  were  running 
without  lights. 

"  Well,  I  guess  we'd  better  be  ambling  along,"  he 


A  MAN  AND  A  SONG  93 

said  casually,  when  the  automobile  had  purred  its  way 
beyond  hearing.  "  It's  three  or  four  miles  yet,  and 
you're  tired." 

"  Not  so  much."  Helen  May's  voice  was  a  little 
lower  than  usual,  but  that  was  the  only  sign  she  gave 
of  any  recent  deep  emotion,  "  I'd  as  soon  walk  awhile 
and  let  you  ride."  She  shrank  now  from  the  thought 
of  both  riding. 

"  When  you've  ridden  as  far  as  I  have,"  said  Starr, 
"  you'll  know  it's  a  rest  to  get  down  and  travel  afoot 
for  a  few  miles."  He  might  have  added  that  it  would 
have  been  a  rest  had  he  not  been  hampered  by  those 
high-heeled  riding  boots,  but  consideration  for  her  men 
tal  ease  did  not  permit  him  to  mention  it.  He  said  no 
more,  but  started  the  goats  ahead  of  him  and  kept  them 
moving  in  a  straight  line  for  Sunlight  Basin.  As  be 
fore,  Eabbit  followed  slavishly  in  his  footsteps,  nose 
dropped  to  the  angle  of  placid  acceptance,  ears  twitch 
ing  forward  and  back  so  that  he  would  lose  no  slightest 
sound. 

Helen  May  fell  again  under  the  spell  of  the  desert 
and  the  moon.  Starr,  walking  steadily  through  the 
white-lighted  barrenness  with  his  shadow  always  mov 
ing  like  a  ghost  before  him,  fitted  once  more  into  the 
desert.  Again  she  repeated  mentally  the  words  of  the 
song: 


94         STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

Let  the  night-winds  touch  thy  brow 
With  the  breath  of  my  burning  sigh, 
And  melt  thee  to  hear  the  vow 
Of  a  love  that  shall  not  die! 

Till  the  sun  grows  cold, 
And  the  stars  are  old, 
And  the  leaves  of  the  Judgment 
Book  unfold! 


And  now  the  lines  sung  themselves  through  her  brain 
with  the  memory  of  Starr's  voice.  But  Starr  did  not 
sing  again,  though  Helen  May,  curious  to  know  if  her 
thoughts  held  any  power  over  him,  gazed  intently  at  his 
back  and  willed  him  to  sing.  He  did  not  look  back  at 
her,  even  when  she  finally  descended  weakly  to  the  more 
direct  influence  of  humming  the  air  softly  —  but  not  too 
softly  for  him  to  hear. 

Starr  paid  no  attention  whatever.  He  seemed  to  be 
thinking  deeply  —  but  he  did  not  seem  to  be  thinking 
of  Helen  May,  nor  of  desert  love  songs.  Helen  May 
continued  to  watch  him,  but  she  was  piqued  at  his  calm 
indifference.  Why,  she  told  herself  petulantly,  he  paid 
more  attention  to  those  goats  than  he  did  to  her  —  and 
one  would  think,  after  that  song  and  that  look.  .  .  . 
But  there  she  stopped,  precipitately  retreating  from  the 
thought  of  that  look. 

He  was  a  queer  fellow,  she  told  herself  with  careful 
tolerance  and  a  little  condescension.  A  true  product  of 


A  MAN  AND  A  SONG  95 

the  desert;  as  changeable  and  as  sphynxlike  and  as 
impossible  from  any  personal,  human  standpoint.  Look 
how  beautiful  the  desert  could  be,  how  terribly  uplifting 
and  calm  and  —  and  big.  Yet  to-morrow  it  might  be 
either  a  burning  waste  of  heat  and  sand  and  bare  rock, 
or  it  might  be  a  howling  waste  of  wind  and  sand  (if  one 
of  those  sand  storms  came  up).  To  herself  she  called 
him  the  Man  of  the  Desert,  and  she  added  the  word 
mysterious,  and  she  also  added  two  lines  of  the  song 
because  they  fitted  exactly  her  conception  of  him  as  she 
knew  him.  The  lines  were  these: 

From  the  desert  I  come  to  thee, 
On  my  Arab  shod  with  fire. 

This,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  Rabbit  had  none  of  the 
fiery  traits  of  an  Arabian  steed;  nor  could  he  by  any 
stretch  of  the  imagination  be  accused  of  being  shod 
with  fire,  he  who  planted  his  hoofs  so  sedately!  Shod 
with  velvet  would  have  come  nearer  describing  him. 

So  Helen  May,  who  was  something  of  a  dreamer  when 
Life  let  her  alone  long  enough,  rode  home  through  the 
moonlight  and  wove  cloth-of-gold  from  the  magic  of  the 
night,  and  with  the  fairy  fabric  she  clothed  Starr  — 
who  was,  as  we  know,  just  an  ordinary  human  being  — 
so  that  he  walked  before  her,  not  as  a  plain,  ungram- 
matical,  sometimes  profane  young  man  who  was  helping 


96         STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

her  home  with  her  goats,  but  a  mysterious,  romantic 
figure  evolved  somehow  out  of  the  vastness  in  which  she 
lived ;  who  would  presently  recede  again  into  the  myste 
rious  wild  whence  he  had  come. 

It  was  foolish.  She  knew  that  it  was  foolish.  But 
she  had  been  living  rather  harshly  and  rather  materially 
for  some  time,  and  she  hungered  for  the  romance  of 
youth.  Starr  was  the  only  person  who  had  come  to  her 
untagged  by  the  sordid,  everyday  petty  details  of  life. 
It  did  not  hurt  him  to  be  idealized,  but  it  might  have 
hurt  Helen  May  a  little  to  know  that  he  was  pondering 
so  earthly  a  subject  as  a  big,  black  automobile  careering 
without  lights  across  the  desert  and  carrying  four  men 
who  looked  like  Mexicans. 


CHAPTER  EIGHT 

HOLMAN    SOMMEKS,    SCIENTIST 

HEXE1ST  MAY,  under  a  last  year's  parasol  of  pink 
silk  from  which  the  sun  had  drawn  much  of  its 
pinkness  and  the  wind  and  dust  its  freshness,  sat  beside 
the  road  with  her  back  against  the  post  that  held  the 
macaroni  box,  and  waited  for  the  stage.  Her  face  did 
not  need  the  pink  light  of  the  parasol,  for  it  was  red 
enough  after  that  broiling  walk  of  yesterday.  The 
desert  did  not  look  so  romantic  by  the  garish  light  of 
midday,  but  she  stared  out  over  it  and  saw,  as  with  eyes 
newly  opened  to  appreciation,  that  there  was  a  certain 
charm  even  in  its  garishness.  She  had  lost  a  good  deal 
of  moodiness  and  a  good  deal  of  discontent,  somewhere 
along  the  moonlight  trail  of  last  night,  and  she  hummed 
a  tune  while  she  waited.  No  need  to  tell  you  that  it 
was :  "  Till  the  sun  grows  cold,  till  the  stars  are  old  — " 
"No  need  to  tell  you,  either,  of  whom  she  was  thinking 
while  she  sang. 

But  part  of  the  time  she  was  wondering  what  mail 
she  would  get.  Her  chum  would  write,  of  course ;  being 
a  good,  faithful  chum,  she  would  probably  continue  to 


98         STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

write  two  or  three  letters  a  week  for  the  next  three 
months.  After  that  she  would  drop  to  one  long  letter 
a  month  for  awhile;  and  after  that  —  well,  she  was  a 
faithful  chum,  but  life  persists  in  bearing  one  past  the 
eddy  that  holds  friendship  circling  round  and  round  in 
a  pool  of  memories.  The  chum's  brother  had  written 
twice,  however;  exuberant  letters  full  of  current  com 
edy  and  full-blooded  cheerfulness  and  safely  vague  senti 
ment  which  he  had  partly  felt  at  the  time  he  wrote.  He 
had  "  joshed  "  Helen  May  a  good  deal  about  the  goats, 
even  to  the  extent  of  addressing  her  as  "  Dear  Goat- 
Lady  "  in  the  last  letter,  with  the  word  "  Lady  "  under 
scored  and  scrawled  the  whole  width  of  the  page.  Helen 
May  had  puzzled  over  the  obscure  meaning  of  that,  and 
had  decided  that  it  would  have  sounded  funny,  perhaps, 
if  he  had  said  it  that  way,  but  that  it  "  didn't  get  over  " 
on  paper. 

She  wondered  if  he  would  write  again,  or  if  his  cor 
respondence  would  prove  as  spasmodic,  as  easily  inter 
rupted  as  his  attentions  had  been  when  they  were  both 
in  the  same  town.  Chum's  brother  was  a  nice,  big, 
comfy  kind  of  young  man ;  the  trouble  was  that  he  was 
too  popular  to  give  all  his  interest  to  one  girl.  You 
know  how  it  is  when  a  man  stands  six  feet  tall  and  has 
wavy  hair  and  a  misleading  smile  and  a  great,  big, 
deep-cushioned  roadster  built  for  two.  Helen!  May 


HOLMAN  SOMMERS,  SCIENTIST    99 

appreciated  his  writing  two  letters  to  her,  he  who  hated 
so  to  write  letters,  but  her  faith  in  the  future  was  small. 
Still,  he  might  write.  It  seemed  worth  while  to  wait 
for  the  stage. 

Just  when  she  was  telling  herself  that  the  stage  was 
late,  far  over  the  ridge  rose  the  dust  signal.  Her  pulse 
quickened  expectantly ;  so  much  had  loneliness  done  for 
her.  She  watched  it,  and  she  tried  not  to  admit  to  her 
self  that  it  did  not  look  like  the  cloud  kicked  up  by  the 
four  trotting  stage  horses.  She  tried  not  to  believe  that 
the  cloud  was  much  too  small  to  have  been  made  by  their 
clattering  progress.  It  must  be  the  stage.  It  was  past 
time  for  it  to  arrive  at  the  post.  And  it  had  not  gone 
by,  for  she  had  sent  for  a  can  of  baking  powder  and  a 
dozen  lemons  and  fifty  cents  worth  of  canned  milk  (the 
delicatessen  habit  of  buying  in  small  quantities  still 
hampered  her)  and,  even  if  the  stage  had  passed  earlier 
than  usual,  the  stuff  would  have  been  left  at  the  post  for 
her,  even  though  there  was  no  mail.  But  it  could  not 
have  passed.  She  would  have  seen  the  dust,  that  always 
hung  low  over  the  trail  like  the  drooping  tail  of  a  comet, 
and  when  the  day  was  still  took  half  an  hour  at  least 
to  settle  again  for  the  next  passer-by.  And  besides,  she 
had  come  to  know  the  tracks  the  stage  left  in  the  trail. 
It  could  not  have  passed.  And  it  had  to  come ;  it  car 
ried  the  government  mail.  And  yet,  that  dust  did  not 


100       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

look  like  the  stage  dust.  (Trivial  worries,  you  say? 
Then  try  living  forty  miles  from  a  post  office,  ten  from 
the  nearest  neighbor,  and  fifteen  hundred  from  your 
dearly  beloved  Home  Town.  Try  living  there,  not  be 
cause  you  want  to  but  because  you  must ;  hating  it,  hun 
gering  for  human  companionship.  Try  it  with  heat 
and  wind  and  sand  and  great,  arid  stretches  of  a  land 
that  is  strange  to  you.  Honestly,  I  think  you  would 
have  been  out  there  just  after  sunrise  to  wait  for  that 
stage,  and  if  it  were  late  you  would  have  walked  down 
the  trail  to  meet  it!) 

Helen  May  remained  by  the  post,  but  she  got  up  and 
stood  on  a  rock  that  protruded  six  inches  or  so  above  the 
sand.  Of  course  she  could  not  see  over  the  ridge  —  she 
could  not  have  done  that  if  she  had  climbed  a  telegraph 
pole ;  only  there  was  no  pole  to  climb  —  but  she  felt  a 
little  closer  to  seeing.  That  dust  did  not  look  like  stage 
dust! 

You  would  be  surprised  to  know  how  much  Helen 
May  had  learned  about  dust  clouds.  She  could  tell  an 
automobile  ten  miles  away,  just  by  the  swift  gathering 
of  the  gray  cloud.  She  could  tell  where  bands  of  sheep 
or  herds  of  cattle  were  being  driven  across  the  plain. 
She  even  knew  when  a  saddle  horse  was  coming,  or  a 
freight  team  or  —  the  stage. 

She  suddenly  owned  to  herself  that  she  was  disap- 


HOLMAN  SOMMERS,  SCIENTIST    101 

pointed  and  rather  worried.  For  behind  this  cloud  that 
troubled  her  there  was  no  second  one  building  up  over 
the  skyline  and  growing  more  dense  as  the  disturber 
approached.  She  could  not  imagine  what  had  happened 
to  that  red-whiskered,  tobacco-chewing  stage  driver. 
She  looked  at  her  wrist  watch  and  saw  that  he  was  ex 
actly  twenty  minutes  later  than  his  very  latest  arrival, 
and  she  felt  personally  slighted  and  aggrieved. 

For  that  reason  she  sat  under  her  pink  silk  parasol 
and  stared  crossly  under  her  eyebrows  at  the  horse  and 
man  and  the  dust-grimed  rattle-wheeled  buggy  that 
eventually  emerged  from  the  gray  cloud.  The  horse 
was  a  pudgy  bay  that  set  his  feet  stolidly  down  in  the 
trail,  and  dragged  his  toes  through  it  as  though  he  de 
lighted  in  kicking  up  all  the  dust  he  could.  By  that 
trick  he  had  puzzled  Helen  May  a  little,  just  at  first, 
though  he  had  not  been  able  to  simulate  the  passing  of 
four  horses.  The  buggy  was  such  as  improvident  farm 
ers  used  to  drive  (before  they  bought  Fords)  near  har 
vest  time;  scaly  as  to  paint,  warped  and  loose-spoked 
as  to  wheels,  making  more  noise  than  progress  along  the 
country  roads. 

The  man  held  the  lines  so  loosely  that  they  sagged 
under  the  wire-mended  traces  of  sunburned  leather.  He 
leaned  a  little  forward,  as  though  it  was  not  worth 
while  sitting  straight  on  so  hot  a  day.  He  wore  an  old 


102       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

Panama  hat  that  had  cost  him  a  good  deal  when  it  was 
new  and  had  saved  him  a  good  deal  since  in  straw  hats 
which  he  had  not  been  compelled  to  buy  so  long  as  this 
one  held  together.  It  was  pulled  down  in  front  so  that 
it  shaded  his  face  —  a  face  lean  and  lined  and  dark, 
with  thin  lips  that  could  be  tender  and  humorous  in 
certain  moods.  His  eyes  were  hazel,  like  the  eyes  of 
Starr,  yet  one  never  thought  of  them  as  being  at  all  like 
Starr's  eyes.  They  burned  always  with  some  inner  fire 
of  life ;  they  laughed  at  life,  and  yet  they  did  not  seem 
to  express  mirth.  They  seemed  to  say  that  life  was  a 
joke,  a  damnable  joke  on  mankind;  that  they  saw  the 
joke  and  resented  it  even  while  they  laughed  at  it.  For 
the  rest,  the  man  was  more  than  fifty  years  old,  but  his 
hair  was  thick  and  black  as  a  crow,  and  his  eyebrows 
were  inclined  to  bushiness,  inclined  also  to  slant  up 
ward.  A  strong  face;  an  unusual  face,  but  a  likeable 
one,  it  was.  And  that  is  a  fair  description  of  Holman 
Sommers  as  Helen  May  first  saw  him. 

He  drove  up  to  where  she  sat,  and  she  tilted  her  pink 
silk  parasol  between  them  as  though  to  keep  the  dust 
from  settling  thick  upon  her  stained  khaki  skirt  and 
her  desert-dingy  high-laced  boots.  She  was  not  inter 
ested  in  him,  and  her  manner  of  expressing  indifference 
could  not  have  misled  a  horned  toad.  She  was  too  fresh 
from  city  life  to  have  fallen  into  the  habit  of  speaking 


HOLMAJST  SOMMERS,  SCIENTIST    103 

to  strangers  easily  and  as  a  matter  of  country  courtesy. 
Even  when  the  buggy  stopped  beside  her,  she  did  not 
show  any  eagerness  to  move  the  pink  screen  so  that  they 
might  look  at  each  other. 

"  How  do  you  do  ?  "  said  he,  quite  as  though  he  were 
greeting  her  in  her  own  home.  "  You  are  Miss  Steven 
son,  I  feel  sure.  I  am  Holman  Sommers,  at  your  serv 
ice.  I  am  under  the  impression  that  I  have  with  me  a 
few  articles  which  may  be  of  some  interest  to  you,  Miss 
Stevenson.  I  chanced  to  come  upon  the  stage  several 
miles  farther  down  the  road.  A  wheel  had  given  away, 
and  there  was  every  indication  that  the  delay  would 
prove  serious,  so  when  the  driver  mentioned  the  fact  that 
he  had  mail  and  merchandise  for  you,  I  volunteered  to 
act  as  his  substitute  and  deliver  them  safely  into  your 
hands.  I  hope  therefore  that  the  service  will  in  some 
slight  measure  atone  for  my  presumption  in  forcing  my 
acquaintance  upon  you." 

At  the  second  sentence  the  pink  parasol  became  vio 
lently  agitated.  At  the  third  Helen  May  was  staring 
at  him,  mentally  if  not  actually  open-mouthed.  At  the 
last  she  was  standing  up  and  reaching  for  her  mail,  and 
she  had  not  yet  decided  in  her  mind  whether  he  was  jok 
ing  or  whether  he  expected  to  be  taken  seriously.  Even 
when  he  laughed,  with  that  odd,  dancing  light  in  his 
eyes,  she  could  not  be  sure.  But  because  his  voice  was 


104       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

warm  with  human  sympathy  and  the  cordiality  of  a 
man  who  is  very  sure  of  himself  and  can  afford  to  be 
cordial,  she  smiled  back  at  him. 

"  That's  awfully  good  of  you,  Mr.  Sommers,"  she 
said,  shuffling  her  handful  of  letters  eagerly  to  see  who 
had  written  them;  more  particularly  to  see  if  Chum's 
brother  had  written  one  of  them.  "  I  hope  you  didn't 
drive  out  of  your  way  to  bring  them  "  (there  ivas  one ; 
a  big,  fat  one  that  had  taken  two  stamps!  And  one 
from  Chum  herself,  and  —  but  she  went  back  gloat 
ingly  to  the  thick,  heavy  envelope  with  the  bold,  black 
handwriting  that  needed  the  whole  face  of  the  envelope 
for  her  name  and  address),  "because  I  know  that 
miles  are  awfully  long  in  this  country." 

"Yes?  You  have  discovered  that  incontrovertible 
fact,  have  you?  Then  I  hope  you  will  permit  me  to 
drive  you  home,  especially  since  these  packages  are 
much  too  numerous  and  too  weighty  for  you  to  carry 
in  your  arms.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  have  been  hoping 
for  an  opportunity  to  meet  our  new  neighbors.  Neigh 
bors  are  precious  in  our  sight,  I  assure  you,  Miss 
Stevenson,  and  only  the  misfortune  of  illness  in  the 
household  has  prevented  my  sister  from  looking  you 
up  long  ago.  How  long  have  you  been  here  ?  Three 
weeks,  or  four  ? "  His  tone  added :  "  You  poor 
child,"  or  something  equally  sympathetic,  and  he  smiled 


HOLMAN  SOMMERS,  SCIENTIST    105 

while  he  cramped  the  old  buggy  so  that  she  could  get 
into  it  without  rubbing  her  skirt  against  the  dust- 
laden  wheel. 

Helen  May  certainly  had  never  seen  any  one  just 
like  Holman  Sommers,  though  she  had  met  hundreds 
of  men  in  a  business  way.  She  had  met  men  who  ran 
to  polysyllables  and  pompousness,  but  she  had  never 
known  the  polysyllables  to  accompany  so  simple  a  man 
ner.  She  had  seen  men  slouching  around  in  old  straw 
hats  and  shoddy  gray  trousers  and  negligee  shirts  with 
the  tie  askew,  and  the  clothes  had  spelled  poverty  or 
shiftlessness.  Whereas  they  made  Holman  Sommers 
look  like  a  great  man  indulging  himself  in  the  luxury 
of  old  clothes  on  a  holiday. 

He  seemed  absolutely  unconscious  that  he  and  his 
rattly  buggy  and  the  harness  on  the  horse  were  all 
very  shabby,  and  that  the  horse  was  fat  and  pudgy 
and  scrawny  of  mane;  and  for  that  she  admired 
him. 

Before  they  reached  the  low  adobe  cabin,  she  felt 
that  she  was  much  better  acquainted  with  Holman  Som 
mers  than  with  Starr,  whose  name  she  still  did  not 
know,  although  he  had  stayed  an  hour  talking  to  Vic 
and  praising  her  cooking  the  night  before.  She  did 
not,  for  all  the  time  she  had  spent  with  him,  know 
anything  definite  about  Starr,  whereas  she  presently 


106       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

knew  a  great  deal  about  Holman  Sommers,  and  ap 
proved  of  all  she  knew. 

He  had  a  past  which,  she  sensed  vaguely,  had  been 
rather  brilliant.  He  must  have  been  a  war  correspond 
ent,  because  he  compared  the  present  great  war  with 
the  Japanese-Eussian  War  and  with  the  South  African 
War,  and  he  seemed  to  have  been  right  in  the  middle 
of  both,  or  he  could  not  have  spoken  so  intimately  of 
them.  He  seemed  to  know  all  about  the  real,  under 
lying  causes  of  them  and  knew  just  where  it  would  all 
end,  and  what  nations  would  be  drawn  into  it  before 
they  were  through.  He  did  not  say  that  he  knew  all 
about  the  war,  but  after  he  had  spoken  a  few  casual 
sentences  upon  the  subject  Helen  May  felt  that  he 
knew  a  great  deal  more  than  he  said. 

He  also  knew  all  about  raising  goats.  He  slid  very 
easily,  too,  from  the  war  to  goat-raising.  He  had 
about  four  hundred,  and  he  gave  her  a  lot  of  valuable 
advice  about  the  most  profitable  way  in  which  to  handle 
them. 

When  he  saw  Vic  legging  it  along  the  slope  behind 
the  Basin  to  head  off  Billy  and  his  slavish  nannies,  he 
shook  his  head  commiseratingly.  "  There  is  not  a  scin 
tilla  of  doubt  in  my  mind,"  he  told  her  gently,  "  that 
a  trained  dog  would  be  of  immeasurable  benefit  to  you. 
I  fear  you  made  a  grave  mistake,  Miss  Stevenson,  when 


HOLMAN  SOMMERS,  SCIENTIST    107 

you  failed  to  possess  yourself  of  a  good  dog.  I  might 
go  so  far  as  to  say  that  a  dog  is  absolutely  indispensable 
to  the  successful  handling  of  goats,  or,  for  that  matter, 
of  sheep,  either."  (He  pronounced  the  last  word 
eyether.) 

"  That's  what  my  desert  man  told  me,"  said  Helen 
May  demurely,  "  only  he  didn't  tell  me  that  way,  ex 
actly." 

"  Yes  ?  Then  I  have  no  hesitation  whatever  in  as 
suring  you  that  your  desert  man  was  unqualifiedly  ac 
curate  in  his  statement  of  your  need." 

Helen  May  bit  her  lip.  "  Then  I'll  tell  him,"  she 
said,  still  more  demurely. 

Secretly  she  hoped  that  he  would  rise  to  the  bait,  but 
he  apparently  accepted  her  words  in  good  faith  and 
went  on  telling  her  just  how  to  range  goats  far  afield 
in  good  weather  so  that  the  grazing  in  the  Basin  itself 
would  be  held  in  reserve  for  storms.  It  was  a  very 
grave  error,  said  Holman  Sommers,  to  exhaust  the  pas 
turage  immediately  contiguous  to  the  home  corral.  It 
might  almost  be  defined  as  downright  improvidence. 
Then  he  forestalled  any  resentment  she  might  feel  by 
apologizing  for  his  seeming  presumption.  But  he  ap 
prehended  the  fact  that  she  and  her  brother  were  both 
inexperienced,  and  he  would  be  sorry  indeed  to  see 
them  suffer  any  loss  because  of  that  inexperience.  His 


108       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

practical  knowledge  of  the  business  was  at  her  service, 
he  said,  and  he  should  feel  that  he  was  culpably  negli 
gent  of  his  duty  as  a  neighbor  if  he  failed  to  point  out 
to  her  any  glaring  fault  in  their  method. 

Helen  May  had  felt  just  a  little  resentful  of  the 
words  downright  improvidence.  Had  she  not  walked 
rather  than  spend  money  and  grass  on  a  horse?  Had 
she  not  daily  denied  herself  things  which  she  consid 
ered  necessities,  that  she  might  husband  the  precious 
balance  of  Peter's  insurance  money?  But  she  swal 
lowed  her  resentment  and  thanked  him  quite  humbly 
for  his  kindness  in  telling  her  how  to  manage.  She 
owned  to  her  inexperience,  and  she  said  that  she  would 
greatly  appreciate  any  advice  which  he  might  care  to 
give. 

Her  Man  of  the  Desert,  she  remembered,  had  not 
given  her  advice,  though  he  must  have  seen  how  badly 
she  needed  it.  He  had  asked  her  where  her  dog  was, 
taking  it  for  granted,  apparently,  that  she  would  have 
one.  But  when  she  had  told  him  about  not  buying  the 
dog,  he  had  not  said  another  word  about  it.  And  he 
had  not  said  anything  about  their  letting  the  goats  eat 
up  all  the  grass  in  the  Basin,  first  thing,  instead  of 
saving  it  for  bad  weather.  This  Holman  Sommers, 
she  decided,  was  awfully  kind,  even  if  he  did  talk  like 
a  professor  or  something;  kinder  than  her  desert  man. 


HOLMAN  SOMMERS,  SCIENTIST    109 

No,    not    kinder,    but    perhaps    more    truly    helpful. 

At  the  house  he  told  her  just  how  to  fix  a  "  cooler- 
cupboard  "  under  the  lone  mesquite  tree  which  stood 
at  one  end  of  the  adobe  cabin.  It  was  really  very 
simple,  as  he  explained  it,  and  he  assured  her,  in  his 
scientific  terminology,  that  it  would  be  cool.  He  went 
to  the  spring  and  showed  her  where  she  could  have 
Vic  dig  out  the  bank  and  fit  in  a  rock  shelf  for  butter. 
He  assured  her  that  she  was  fortunate  in  having  a  liv 
ing  spring  so  near  the  house.  It  was,  he  said,  of  in 
calculable  importance  in  that  country  to  have  cold, 
pure  water  always  at  hand. 

When  he  discovered  that  she  was  a  stenographer,  and 
that  she  had  her  typewriter  with  her,  he  was  immensely 
pleased,  so  pleased  that  his  eyes  shone  with  delight. 

"  Ah !  now  I  see  why  the  fates  drove  me  forth  upon 
the  highway  this  morning,"  said  he.  "  Do  you  know 
that  I  have  a  large  volume  of  work  for  an  expert  typist, 
and  that  I  have  thus  far  felt  that  my  present  isolation 
in  the  desert  wastes  was  an  almost  unsurmountable  ob 
stacle  to  having  the  work  done  in  a  satisfactory  manner  ? 
I  have  been  engaged  upon  a  certain  work  on  sociological 
problems  and  how  they  have  developed  with  the  growth 
of  civilization.  You  will  readily  apprehend  that  great 
care  must  be  exercised  in  making  the  copy  practically 
letter  perfect.  Furthermore,  I  find  myself  constantly 


110       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

revising  the  manuscript.  I  should  want  to  supervise 
the  work  rather  closely,  and  for  that  reason  I  have  not 
as  yet  arranged  for  the  final  typing. 

"  Now  if  you  care  to  assume  the  task,  I  can  assure 
you  that  I  shall  feel  tremendously  grateful,  besides 
making  adequate  remuneration  for  the  labor  involved." 

That  is  the  way  he  put  it,  and  that  is  how  it  hap 
pened  that  Helen  May  let  herself  in  for  the  hardest 
piece  of  work  she  had  ever  attempted  since  she  sold 
gloves  at  Bullocks'  all  day  and  attended  night  school 
all  the  evening,  learning  shorthand  and  typewriting 
and  bookkeeping,  and  permitting  the  white  plague  to 
fasten  itself  upon  her  while  she  bent  to  her  studies. 

She  let  herself  in  for  it  because  she  believed  she  had 
plenty  of  time,  and  because  Holman  Sommers  was  in 
no  hurry  for  the  manuscript,  which  he  did  not  expect 
to  see  completed  for  a  year  or  so,  since  a  work  so 
erudite  required  much  time  and  thought,  being  alto 
gether  different  from  current  fiction,  which  requires 
none  at  all. 

Helen  May  was  secretly  aghast  at  the  pile  of  scrawled 
writing  interlined  and  crossed  out,  with  marginal  notes 
and  footnotes  and  references  and  what  not ;  but  she  let 
herself  in  for  the  job  of  typing  his  book  for  him  — 
which  is  enough  for  the  present. 


CHAPTEE  NINE 

PAT,    A    NICE   DOGGUMS 

'  *  4T  1 1HE  human  polyp  incessantly  builds  upon  a 
JL  coral  reef.  They  become  lithified  as  it  were 
and  constitute  the  strata  of  the  psychozoic  stage ' —  I 
told  you  the  butter's  at  the  spring.  Will  you  leave  me 
alone  ?  That's  the  third  page  Fve  spoiled  over  psycho- 
what-you-call-it.  Go  on  back  and  herd  your  goats,  and 
for  gracious  sake,  can  that  tulip-and-rose  song !  I  hate 
it."  Helen  May  ripped  a  page  with  two  carbon  copies 
out  of  the  machine,  pulled  out  the  carbons  and  crumpled 
three  sheets  of  paper  into  a  ball  which  she  threw  into 
a  far  corner. 

"  Gee,  but  you're  pecky  to-day !  You  act  like  an 
extra  slammed  into  a  sob  lead  and  gettin'  up  stage 
about  it.  I  wish  that  long-worded  hick  had  never 
showed  up  with  his  soiled  package  of  nut  science.  A 
feller  can't  live  with  you,  by  gosh,  since  you  — " 

"  Well,  listen  to  this,  Vic !  '  There  is  a  radical  dif 
ference  between  organic  and  social  evolution,  the 
formula  most  easily  expressing  this  distinction  being 
that  environment  transforms  the  animal,  while  man 


112       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

transforms  the  environment.  This  transforma 
tion—'" 

"  Hel-up !  Hel-up !  "  Vic  went  staggering  out  of 
the  door  with  his  palm  pressed  against  his  forehead  in 
the  gesture  meant  to  register  great  mental  agony,  while 
his  face  was  split  with  that  nearly  famous  comedy  grin 
of  his.  "  Serves  you  right/'  he  flung  back  at  her  in 
his  normal  tone  of  brotherly  condescension.  "  The 
way  you  fell  for  that  nut,  like  you  was  a  starved  squir 
rel  shut  up  in  a  peanut  wagon,  by  gosh !  Hope  you're 
bogged  down  in  jawbreakers  the  rest  of  the  summer. 
Serves  yuh  right,  but  you  needn't  think  you  can  take 
it  out  on  me.  And,"  he  draped  himself  around  the 
door  jamb  to  add  pointedly,  "  you  should  worry  about 
the  tulip  song.  If  I'm  willing  to  stand  for  you  yawp 
ing  day  and  night  about  the  sun  growin'  co-old,  and  all 
that  bunk  — " 

"  Oh,  beat  it,  and  shut  up !  "  Helen  May  looked 
up  from  evening  the  edges  of  fresh  paper  and  carbon 
to  say  sharply :  "  You  better  take  a  look  and  see  where 
Billy  is.  And  I'll  tell  you  one  thing :  If  you  go  and 
lose  any  more  goats,  you  needn't  think  for  a  minute 
that  I'll  walk  my  head  off  getting  them  for  you." 

"  Aw,  where  do  you  get  that  line  —  walk  your  head 
off?  I  seem  to  remember  a  close-up  of  you  riding 
home  on  horseback  with  moonlight  atmosphere  and  a 


PAT,  A  NICE  DOGGUMS         113 

fellow  to  drive  your  goats.  And  you  giving  him  the 
baby-eyed  stare  like  he  was  a  screen  idol  and  you  was 
an  extra  that  was  strong  for  him.  Bu-lieve  me,  Helen 
Blazes,  I'm  wise.  You're  wishing  a  goat  would  get 
lost  —  now,  while  the  moon's  workin'  steady !  " 

"  Oh,  beat  it,  Vic !  I've  got  work  to  do,  if  you 
haven't."  And  to  prove  it,  Helen  May  began  to  type 
at  her  best  speed. 

Vic  languidly  removed  himself  from  the  door  jamb 
and  with  a  parting  "  I  should  bibble,"  started  back  to 
his  goats,  which  he  had  refused  to  graze  outside  the 
Basin  as  Holman  Sommers  advised.  Helen  May  be 
gan  valiantly  to  struggle  with  the  fine,  symmetrical,  but 
almost  unreadable  chirography  of  the  man  of  many 
words.  She  succeeded  in  transcribing  the  human 
polyp  properly  lightified  and  correctly  constituting  the 
strata  of  the  psychozoic  age,  when  Vic  stuck  his  head 
in  at  the  door  again. 

From  the  des-urt  he  comes  to  thee-ee-ee, 
And  he's  got  a  dog  for  thee  to  see-ee. 

He  paraphrased  mockingly,  going  down  to  that  ter 
rifically  deep-sea  bass  note  of  a  boy  whose  voice  is  chang 
ing. 

Helen  May  threw  her  eraser  at  him  and  missed.  It 
went  hurtling  out  into  the  yard  and  struck  Starr  on  the 
point  of  the  jaw,  as  he  was  riding  up  to  the  cabin. 


114       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

Whereat  Vic  gave  a  brazenly  exultant  whoop  and 
rushed  off  to  his  goats,  bellowing  raucously: 

"  When  you  wore  a  too-lup,  a  sweet  yellow  too-lup 
'N  I  wore  a  big  red  ro-o-ose — " 

and  looking  back  frequently  in  a  half  curious,  half  wist 
ful  way.  Vic,  if  you  will  stop  to  think  of  it,  had  been 
transplanted  rather  suddenly  from  the  midst  of  many 
happy-go-lucky  companions  to  an  isolation  lightened 
only  by  a  mere  sister's  vicarious  comradeship.  If  he 
yearned  secretly  for  a  share  of  Starr's  interest,  surely 
no  one  can  blame  him;  but  that  he  should  voluntarily 
remove  himself  from  Starr's  presence  in  the  belief  that 
he  had  come  to  see  Helen  May  exclusively,  proves  that 
Vic  had  the  makings  of  a  hero. 

Starr  dismounted  and  picked  up  the  eraser  from  un 
der  the  investigative  nose  of  a  coarse-haired,  ugly, 
brown  and  black  dog  that  had  been  following  Rabbit's 
heels.  He  took  the  eraser  to  Helen  May,  standing  em 
barrassed  in  the  doorway,  and  the  dog  followed  and 
sniffed  first  her  slipper  toes  and  then  her  hands,  which 
she  held  out  to  it  ingratiatingly;  after  which  appraise 
ment  the  dog  waggled  its  stub  of  a  tail  in  token  of  his 
friendliness. 

"  If  you  was  a  Mexican  he'd  a  showed  you  his  teeth," 
Starr  observed  pridefully.  "  How  are  you,  after  your 
jaunt  the  other  night?" 


PAT,  A  NICE  DOGGUMS         115 

"  Just  fine,"  Helen  May  testified  graciously.  It  just 
happened  (or  had  it  just  happened?)  that  she  was 
dressed  that  day  in  a  white  crepe  de  chine  blouse  and  a 
white  corduroy  skirt,  and  had  on  white  slippers  and 
white  stockings.  At  the  top  button  of  her  blouse  (she 
could  not  have  touched  that  button  with  her  chin  if  she 
had  tried)  was  a  brown  velvet  bow  the  exact  shade  of 
her  eyes.  Her  hair  was  done  low  and  loose  with  a 
negligent  wave  where  it  turned  back  from  her  left  eye 
brow.  Peter  had  worshipped  dumbly  his  Babe  in  that 
particular  dress,  and  had  considered  her  beautiful.  One 
cannot  wonder  then  that  Starr's  eyes  paid  tribute  with 
a  second  long  glance. 

Starr  had  ridden  a  good  many  miles  out  of  his  way 
and  had  argued  for  a  good  while,  and  had  finally  paid  a 
good  many  dollars  to  get  the  dog  that  sniffed  and  wagged 
at  Helen  May.  The  dog  was  a  thoroughbred  Airedale 
and  had  been  taught  from  its  puppyhood  to  herd  goats 
and  fight  all  intruders  upon  his  flock  and  to  hate  Mexi 
cans  wherever  he  met  them.  He  had  learned  to  do  both 
very  thoroughly,  hence  the  argument  and  the  dollars 
necessary  before  Starr  could  gain  possession  of  him. 

Starr  did  not  need  a  dog;  certainly  not  that  dog. 
He  had  no  goats  to  herd,  and  he  could  hate  Mexicans 
without  any  help  or  encouragement  when  they  needed 
hating.  But  he  had  not  grudged  the  trouble  and  ex- 


116       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

pense,  because  Helen  May  needed  it.  He  might  have 
earned  more  gratitude  had  he  told  her  the  truth  instead 
of  hiding  it  like  guilt.  This  was  his  way  of  going  at 
the  subject,  and  he  waited,  mind  you,  until  he  had  an 
nounced  nonchalantly  that  he  must  be  getting  along, 
and  that  he  had  just  stopped  to  get  a  drink  and  to  see 
how  they  were  making  out ! 

"  Blame  dog's  taken  a  notion  to  you.  Followed  me 
out  from  town.  I  thro  wed  rocks  at  him  till  my  arm 
ached—" 

"  Why,  you  mean  thing !  You  might  have  hit  him 
and  hurt  him,  and  he's  a  nice  dog.  Poor  old  purp! 
Did  he  throw  rocks,  honest  ?  He  did  ?  -Well,  just  for 
that,  I've  got  a  nice  ham  bone  that  you  can  have  to  gnaw 
on,  and  he  can't  have  a  snippy  bit  of  it.  All  he  can  do 
is  eat  a  piece  of  lemon  pie  that  will  probably  make  him 
sick.  We  hope  so,  don't  we?  Throwing  rocks  at  a 
nice,  ugly,  stubby  dog  that  wanted  to  follow !  " 

Starr  accepted  the  pie  gratefully  and  looked  properly 
ashamed  of  himself.  The  dog  accepted  the  ham  bone 
and  immediately  stretched  himself  out  with  his  nose 
and  front  paws  hugging  it  close,  and  growling  threats 
at  imaginary  vandals.  ISTow  and  then  he  glanced  up 
gratefully  at  Helen  May,  who  continued  to  speak  of 
him  in  a  commiserating  tone. 

"  He  sure  has  taken  a  notion  to  you,"  Starr  persisted 


PAT,  A  NICE  DOGGUMS         117 

between  mouthfuls.  "  You  can  have  him,  for  all  of 
me.  I  don't  want  the  blame  cur  tagging  me  around. 
I'm  liable  to  take  a  shot  at  him  if  I  get  peeved  over 
something  — " 

"  You  dare !  "  Helen  May  regarded  him  sternly 
from  under  her  lashes,  her  chin  tilted  downward. 
"  Do  you  always  take  a  shot  at  something  when  you  get 
peeved  ? " 

"  Well,  I'm  liable  to,"  Starr  admitted  darkly.  «  A 
dog  especially.  You  better  keep  him  if  you  don't  want 
him  hurt  or  anything."  He  took  a  bite  of  pie.  (It 
was  not  very  good  pie.  The  crust  was  soggy  because 
Johnny  Calvert's  cook  stove  was  not  a  good  baker,  and 
the  frosting  had  gone  watery,  because  the  eggs  were 
stale,  and  Helen  May  had  made  a  mistake  and  used 
too  much  sugar  in  the  filling;  but  Starr  liked  it,  any 
way,  just  because  she  had  made  it.)  "  Maybe  you  can 
learn  him  to  herd  goats,"  he  suggested,  as  though  the 
idea  had  just  occurred  to  him. 

"  Oh,  I  wonder  if  he  would !  Would  you,  dog- 
gums  ? " 

"  We'll  try  him  a  whirl  and  see,"  Starr  offered 
cheerfully.  He  finished  the  pie  in  one  more  swallow, 
handed  back  the  plate,  and  wiped  his  fingers,  man- 
fashion,  on  his  trousers. 

"  Come  on,  Pat.     He  likes  Pat  for  a  name,"  he  ex- 


118       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

plained  carefully  to  Helen  May.  "  I  called  him  about 
every  name  I  could  think  of,  and  that's  the  one  he 
seems  to  sabe  most." 

"  I  should  say  he  does !  Why,  he  left  his  bone  when 
you  called  Pat.  Now  that's  a  shame,  doggums !  " 

"  Oh,  well,  we'll  let  him  polish  off  his  bone  first." 
Starr  made  the  offer  with  praiseworthy  cheerfulness, 
and  sat  down  on  his  heels  with  his  back  against  the 
adobe  wall  to  wait  the  dog's  pleasure. 

"  Well,  that  makes  up  for  some  of  the  rocks,"  Helen 
May  approved  generously,  "  and  for  some  of  the  names 
you  say  you  called  him.  And  that  reminds  me,  Man 
of  the  Desert,  I  suppose  you  have  a  name  of  some  sort. 
I  never  heard  what  it  was.  Is  it  —  Smith,  perhaps  ?  " 

"  My  name's  Starr,"  he  told  her,  with  a  little  glow 
under  the  tan  of  his  cheeks.  "  S,  t,  a,  double  r,  Starr. 
I  forgot  I  never  told  you.  I've  got  a  couple  of  given 
names,  but  I'd  want  to  shoot  a  man  that  called  me  by 
'em.  Folks  always  call  me  just  Starr,  and  maybe  a 
few  other  things  behind  my  back." 

Helen  May  dropped  her  chin  and  looked  at  him 
steadily  from  under  her  eyebrows.  "  If  there's  any 
thing  that  drives  me  perfectly  wild,"  she  said  finally, 
"  it's  a  mystery.  I've  just  simply  got  to  know  what 
those  names  are.  I'll  never  mention  them,  honest. 
But—" 


PAT,  A  NICE  DOGGUMS         119 

"Chauncy  De  Witt,"  Starr  confessed.  "Forget 
'em.  They  was  wished  onto  me  when  I  wasn't  able  to 
defend  myself." 

"  Given  names  are  horrid  things,  aren't  they  ? " 
Helen  May  sympathized.  "  I  think  mine  is  perfectly 
imbecile.  Fathers  and  mothers  shouldn't  be  allowed  to 
choose  names  for  their  children.  They  ought  to  wait 
till  the  kids  are  big  enough  to  choose  for  themselves. 
If  I  ever  have  any,  I'll  call  them  It.  When  they 
grow  up  they  can  name  themselves  anything  they 
like." 

"  You've  got  no  right  to  kick,"  Starr  declared  bluntly. 
"  Your  name  suits  you  fine." 

His  eyes  said  more  than  that,  so  that  Helen  May  gave 
her  attention  to  the  dog.  "  There,  now,  you've  licked 
it  and  polished  it  and  left  teeth  marks  all  over  it,"  she 
said,  meaning  the  bone.  "  Come  on,  Pat,  and  let's  see 
if  you're  a  trained  doggums."  She  looked  up  at  Starr 
and  smiled.  "  Suppose  he  starts  running  after  them ; 
he  might  chase  them  clear  off  the  ranch,  and  then 
what?" 

u  I  guess  the  supply  of  rocks  '11  hold  out,"  Starr 
hinted,  and  snapped  his  fingers  at  the  dog,  which  went 
to  heel  as  a  matter  of  course. 

"  If  you  throw  rocks  at  that  dog,  I'll  throw  rocks  at 
you,"  Helen  May  threatened  viciously, 


120       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

"  And  Til  hit,  and  you'll  miss/7  Starr  added  pla 
cidly.  "  Come  on,  let's  get  busy  and  see  if  you  deserved 
that  bone." 

Helen  May  had  learned  from  uncomfortable  experi 
ence  that  high-heeled  slippers  are  not  made  for  tramp 
ing  over  rocks  and  sand.  She  said  that  she  would  come 
as  soon  as  she  put  on  some  shoes;  but  Starr  chose  to 
wait  for  her,  though  he  pretended,  to  himself  as  much  as 
to  her,  that  he  must  take  the  bridle  off  Kabbit  and  let 
him  pick  a  few  mouthfuls  of  grass  while  he  had  the 
chance.  Also  he  loosened  the  cinch  and  killed  a  fly 
or  two  on  Babbit's  neck,  and  so  managed  to  put  in  the 
time  until  Helen  May  appeared  in  her  khaki  skirt  and 
her  high  boots. 

"  That's  the  sensible  outfit  for  this  work,"  Starr 
plucked  up  courage  to  comment  as  they  started  off. 
"  That  kid  brother  of  yours  must  get  pretty  lonesome 
too,  out  here,"  he  added.  "  If  you  had  some  one  to  stay 
with  you,  I'd  take  him  out  on  a  trip  with  me  once  in  a 
while  and  show  him  the  country  and  let  him  learn  to 
handle  himself  with  a  horse  and  gun.  A  fellow's  got  to 
learn,  in  this  country.  So  have  you.  How  about  it? 
Ever  shoot  a  gun,  either  of  you  ?  " 

"  Vic  used  to  keep  me  broke,  begging  money  for  the 
shooting  gallery  down  near  our  place,"  said  Helen  May. 
"  I  used  to  shoot  there  a  little." 


PAT,  A  NICE  DOGGUMS         121 

"Popgun  stuff,  but  good  practice/'  said  Starr  suc 
cinctly.  "  Got  a  gun  on  the  ranch  ?  " 

"  No,  only  Vic's  little  single-shot  twenty-two.  That's 
good  enough  for  jack  rabbits.  What  would  we  want  a 
gun  for  ?  " 

Starr  laughed.  "  Season's  always  open  for  coyotes, 
and  you  could  pick  up  a  little  money  in  bounties  now 
and  then,  if  you  had  a  gun,"  he  said.  "  That  would 
keep  you  out  in  the  open,  too.  I  dunno  but  what  I've 
got  a  rifle  I  could  let  you  have.  I  did  have  one,  a  little 
too  light  a  calibre  for  me,  but  it  would  be  just  about 
right  for  you.  It's  a  25-35  carbine.  I'm  right  sure 
I've  got  that  gun  on  hand  yet.  I'll  bring  it  over  to  you. 
You  sure  ought  to  have  a  gun." 

They  were  nearing  the  goats  scattered  over  the  slope 
that  was  shadiest,  chosen  for  Vic's  comfort  and  not  be 
cause  of  any  thought  for  his  charges.  Vic  himself  was 
sprawled  in  the  shade  of  a  huge  rock,  and  for  pastime 
he  was  throwing  rocks  at  every  ground  squirrel  that 
poked  its  nose  out  of  a  hole.  The  two  hundred  goats 
were  scattered  far  and  wide,  but  as  long  as  Billy  was 
nibbling  a  bush  wtthin  sight,  Vic  did  not  worry  about 
the  rest.  He  lifted  himself  to  a  sitting  posture  and 
grinned  when  the  two  came  up. 

"  Didn't  think  to  bring  any  pie,  I  s'pose  ?  "  he  hinted 
broadly,  and  grinned  companionably  at  Starr. 


122       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

"  You've  had  two  handouts  since  lunch.  I  guess 
you'll  last  another  hour,"  Helen  May  retorted  unfeel 
ingly.  "  See  the  dog  that  followed  Mr.  Starr  out  from 
town,  Vic !  We're  going  to  see  if  he  can  herd  goats." 

"  Well,  if  he  can,  he's  got  my  permission,  that's  a 
cinch." 

"  I  do  believe  he  can ;  see  him  look  at  them !  His 
name's  Pat,  and  he  likes  me  awfully  well." 

"  Now,  where  does  he  get  that  idea  ? "  taunted  Vic, 
and  winked  openly  at  Starr,  who  was  good  enough  to 
smile  over  what  he  considered  a  very  poor  joke. 

"Well,  let's  see  you  hunch  'em,  Pat."  Starr  made 
a  wide,  sweeping  gesture  with  his  left  arm,  his  eyes 
darting  a  quick  look  at  the  girl. 

Pat  looked  up  at  him,  waggled  his  stub  of  a  tail,  and 
darted  down  the  slope  to  the  left,  now  and  then  uttering 
a  yelp.  Scattered  goats  lifted  heads  to  look,  their  jaws 
working  comically  sidewise  as  though  they  felt  they 
must  dispose  of  that  particular  mouthful  before  some 
thing  happened  to  prevent.  As  Pat  neared  them,  they 
scrambled  away  from  him,  running  to  the  right,  which 
was  toward  the  bulk  of  the  band. 

Down  into  the  Basin  itself  the  dog  ran,  after  a  couple 
of  goats  that  had  strayed  out  into  the  level.  These  he 
drove  back  in  a  panic  of  haste,  dodging  this  way  and 
that,  nipping,  yelping  now  and  then,  until  they  had 


PAT,  A  NICE  DOGGUMS         123 

joined  the  others.  Then  he  went  on  to  the  further 
fringes  of  the  band,  which  evened  like  the  edge  of  a  pie 
crust  under  the  practised  fingers  of  a  good  cook. 

"  Well,  would  you  look  at  that !  "  Helen  May  never 
having  watched  a  good  sheep-dog  at  work,  spoke  in  an 
awed  tone.  "  Vic,  please  write !  " 

Vic,  watching  open-mouthed,  actually  forgot  to  resent 
the  implication  that  Pat  had  left  him  hopelessly  behind 
in  the  art  of  handling  goats. 

"  Seems  to  have  the  savvy,  all  right,"  Starr  observed, 
just  as  though  he  had  not  paid  all  those  dollars  for  the 
"  savvy  "  that  made  Pat  one  of  the  best  goat  dogs  in  the 
State. 

"  Savvy  ?  Why,  that  dog's  human.  Now,  I  sup 
pose  he's  stopping  over  there  to  see  what  he  must  do 
next,  is  he  ?  " 

"  Wants  to  know  whether  I  want  'em  all  rounded 
up,  or  just  edged  up  outa  the  Basin.  G'  round  'em, 
Pat,"  he  called,  and  made  a  wide,  circular  sweep  with 
his  right  arm. 

Pat  gave  a  yelp,  dropped  his  head,  and  scurried  up 
the  ridge,  driving  all  stragglers  back  toward  the  center 
of  the  flock.  He  went  to  every  crest  and  sniffed  into 
the  wind  to  satisfy  himself  that  none  had  strayed  beyond 
his  sight;  returned  and  evened  up  the  ragged  edges  of 
the  band,  and  then  came  trotting  back  to  Starr  with  six 


124       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

inches  of  pink  tongue  draped  over  his  lower  jaw  and 
a  smile  in  his  eyes  and  a  waggle  of  satisfaction  at  loved 
work  well  done.  The  goats,  with  a  meek  Billy  in  the 
foreground,  huddled  in  a  compact  mass  on  the  slope 
and  eyed  the  dog  as  they  had  never  eyed  Vic,  for  all  his 
hoe-handle  and  his  accuracy  with  rocks. 

Helen  May  dropped  her  hand  on  Pat's  head  and 
looked  soberly  into  his  upturned  eyes.  "  You're  a  per 
fect  miracle  of  a  dog,  so  you  can't  be  my  dog,  after 
all,"  she  said.  "  Your  owner  will  be  riding  day  and 
night  to  find  you.  I  know  I  should,  if  you  got 
lost  from  me."  Then  she  looked  at  Starr.  "  Don't 
you  think  you  really  ought  to  take  him  back  with  you  ? 
It  —  somehow  it  doesn't  seem  quite  right  to  keep  a  dog 
that  knows  so  much.  Why,  the  man  I  bought  the  goats 
from  had  a  dog  that  could  herd  them,  and  he  wanted 
twenty-five  dollars  for  it,  and  at  that,  he  claimed  he 
was  putting  the  price  awfully  low  for  me,  just  because 
I  was  a  lady,  you  know." 

Starr,  was  (as  he  put  it)  kicking  himself  for  having 
lied  himself  into  this  dilemma.  Also  he  was  wondering 
how  best  he  might  lie  himself  out  of  it. 

"  You  want  to  look  out  for  these  marks  that  say 
they're  giving  you  the  big  end  of  a  bargain  just  because 
you're  a  lady,"  he  said.  "  Chances  are  they're  figuring 
right  then  on  doing  you.  If  that  fellow  had  got  twenty- 


PAT,  A  NICE  DOGGUMS        125 

five  dollars  for  his  dog,  take  it  from  me,  he  wouldn't 
have  lost  anything." 

"  Well,  but  do  you  think  it  would  be  right  to  keep 
this  dog?" 

Since  she  put  it  that  way,  Starr  felt  better.  "  I 
sure  do.  Keep  him  anyway  till  he's  called  for.  When 
I  go  back,  I'll  find  out  where  he  comes  from ;  and  when 
I've  located  the  owner,  maybe  I'll  be  able  to  fix  it  up 
with  him  somehow.  You  sure  ought  to  have  a  dog. 
So  let  it  stand  that  way.  I'll  tell  yuh  when  to  give 
him  up." 

Helen  May  opened  her  lips,  and  Starr,  to  forestall 
argument  and  to  save  his  soul  from  further  sin,  turned 
toward  the  dog.  "  Bring  'em  home,  Pat,"  he  said,  and 
then  started  toward  the  corral,  which  was  down  below 
the  spring.  "  Watch  him  drive,"  he  said  to  Helen  May 
and  so  managed  to  distract  her  attention  from  the  ethics 
of  the  case. 

Without  any  assistance,  Pat  drove  the  goats  to  the 
corral.  More  than  that,  at  Starr's  command,  he  split 
the  band  and  held  half  of  them  aloof  while  the  rest  went 
in.  He  sent  these  straight  down  the  Basin  until  Starr 
recalled  him,  when  he  swung  back  and  corralled  them 
with  the  others.  He  came  then  toward  the  three  for  fur 
ther  orders,  whereupon  Vic,  who  had  been  silent  from 
sheer  amazement,  gave  a  sudden  whoop. 


126       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

"  Hey,  Pat !  You  forgot  something.  Go  back  and 
put  up  the  bars !  "  he  yelled.  Then  he  heaved  his  hoe- 
handle  far  from  him  and  stretched  his  arms  high  over 
his  head  like  one  released  from  an  onerous  task.  "  I'll 
walk  out  and  let  Pat  have  my  job/'  he  said.  "  Herding 
goats  is  dog's  work  anyhow,  and  I  told  you  so  the  first 
day,  Helen  Blazes.  Hadn't  herded  'em  five  minutes 
before  I  knew  I  wasn't  cut  out  for  a  farmer." 

"  Go  on,  Pat ;  you  stay  with  your  goats,"  Starr  com 
manded  gently.  And  Pat,  because  he  had  suckled  a 
nanny  goat  when  he  was  a  pup,  and  had  grown  up  with 
her  kid,  and  had  lived  with  goats  all  his  life,  trotted 
into  the  corral,  found  himself  a  likeable  spot  near  the 
gate,  snuffed  it  all  over,  turned  around  twice,  and  curled 
himself  down  upon  it  in  perfect  content. 

"  He'll  stay  there  all  night,"  Starr  told  them,  laying 
the  bars  in  their  sockets.  "  It's  a  little  early  to  corral 
'em,  sundown  is  about  the  regular  time,  but  it's  a  good 
scheme  to  give  him  plenty  of  time  to  get  acquainted  with 
the  layout.  You  get  up  early,  Vic,  and  let  'em  out 
on  the  far  side  of  the  ridge.  Pat  '11  do  the  rest. 
I'll  have  to  jog  along  now." 

"•Well,  say,"  Vic  objected,  rubbing  his  tousled  blond 
hair  into  a  distracted,  upstanding  condition,  "  I  wish 
you'd  show  me  just  how  you  shift  his  gears.  How  the 
dickens  do  you  do  it  ?  He  don't  know  what  you  say." 


PAT,  A  NICE  DOGGUMS         127 

Before  he  left,  Starr  showed  him  the  gestures,  and 
Vic  that  evening  practised  them  so  enthusiastically  that 
he  nearly  drove  Helen  May  wild.  Perhaps  that  is 
why,  when  she  was  copying  a  sentence  where  Holman 
Sommers  had  mentioned  the  stars  of  the  universe, 
Helen  May  spelled  stars,  "  Starr's  "  and  did  not  notice 
the  mistake  at  all. 


CHAPTER  TEN 

THE    TRAIL    OF    SILVERTOWN    COEDS 

HAVING  wasted  a  couple  of  hours  more  than  he 
intended  to  spend  in  delivering  the  dog,  Starr 
called  upon  Rabbit  to  make  up  those  two  hours  for  him. 
And,  being  an  extremely  misleading  little  gray  horse, 
with  a  surprising  amount  of  speed  and  endurance 
stored  away  under  his  hide,  Rabbit  did  not  fall  far 
short  of  doing  so. 

Starr  had  planned  an  unexpected  visit  to  the  Medina 
ranch.  In  the  guise  of  stockbuyer  his  unexpected 
ness  would  be  perfectly  plausible,  and  he  would  be  well 
pleased  to  arrive  there  late,  so  long  as  he  did  not  arrive 
after  dark.  Just  before  sundown  would  do  very  well, 
he  decided.  He  would  catch  Estan  Medina  off  his 
guard,  and  he  would  have  the  evening  before  him,  in 
case  he  wanted  to  scout  amongst  the  arroyos  on  the 
way  home. 

Starr  very  much  wanted  to  know  who  drove  an  auto 
mobile  without  lights  into  isolated  arroyos  and  over  the 
desert  trails  at  night.  He  had  not,  strange  to  say,  seen 
any  machine  with  Silvertown  cord  tires  in  San  Bonito 


TRAIL  OF  SILVERTOWN  CORDS     129 

or  in  Malpais,  though  he  had  given  every  car  he  saw 
the  second  glance  to  make  sure.  He  knew  that  such 
tires  were  something  new  and  expensive,  so  much  so 
that  they  were  not  in  general  use  in  that  locality.  Even 
in  El  Paso  they  were  rarely  seen  at  that  time,  and  only 
the  fact  that  the  great  man  who  gave  him  his  orders  had 
happened  to  be  using  them  on  his  machine,  and  had 
mentioned  the  fact  to  Starr,  who  was  honored  with  his 
friendship,  had  caused  Starr  to  be  familiar  with  them 
and  to  recognize  instantly  the  impress  they  left  in  soft 
soil.  It  was  a  clue,  and  that  was  the  best  he  could  say 
for  it.  It  was  just  a  little  better  than  nothing,  he  de 
cided.  What  he  wanted  most  was  to  see  the  machine 
itself  at  close  range,  and  to  see  the  men  who  rode  in  it 
—  and  I  am  going  to  tell  you  why. 

There  was  a  secret  political  movement  afoot  in  the 
Southwest;  a  movement  hidden  so  far  underground  as 
to  be  practically  unnoticed  on  the  surface ;  but  a  move 
ment,  nevertheless,  that  had  been  felt  and  recorded  by 
that  political  seismograph,  the  Secret  Service  of  our 
Government.  It  had  been  learned,  no  mere  citizen 
may  know  just  how,  that  the  movement  was  called  the 
Mexican  Alliance.  It  was  suspected  that  the  object  was 
the  restoration  of  three  of  our  States  to  Mexico,  their 
original  owner.  Suspected,  mind  you;  and  when  even 
the  Secret  Service  can  do  no  more  than  suspect,  you 


130       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

will  see  how  well  hidden  was  the  plot.  Its  extent  and 
its  ramifications  they  could  only  guess  at.  Its  leaders 
no  man  could  name,  nor  even  those  who  might  be  sus 
pected  more  than  others. 

But  a  general  uprising  in  three  States,  in  conjunction 
with,  and  under  the  control  of,  a  concerted,  far-sweep 
ing  revolution  across  the  border,  would  not  be  a  thing 
to  laugh  over.  Uncle  Sam  smiled  tolerantly  when  some 
would  have  had  him  chastise.  Uncle  Sam  smiled,  and 
watched,  and  waited  and  drummed  his  fingers  while  he 
read  secret  reports  from  men  away  out  somewhere  in 
Arizona,  and  'New  Mexico,  and  Texas,  and  urged  them 
to  burrow  deeper  and  deeper  underground,  and  to  fol 
low  at  any  cost  the  molelike  twistings  and  blind  turn 
ings  of  this  plot  to  steal  away  three  whole  States  in  a 
lump. 

Now  you  see,  perhaps,  why  Starr  was  so  curious 
about  that  automobile,  and  why  he  was  interested 
in  Estancio  Medina,  Mexican-American  rancher  who 
owned  much  land  and  many  herds,  and  who  was  counted 
a  power  among  his  countrymen;  who  spoke  English 
with  what  passed  for  fluency,  and  who  had  very  decided 
and  intelligent  opinions  upon  political  matters,  and 
who  boldly  proclaimed  his  enthusiasm  for  the  advance 
ment  of  his  own  race. 

But  he  did  not  go  to  the  Medina  ranch  that  evening, 


TRAIL  OF  SILVER/TOWN  CORDS    131 

for  the  very  good  reason  that  he  met  his  man  fair  in 
the  trail  as  it  looped  around  the  head  of  the  draw 
where  he  had  heard  the  automobile  running  without 
lights.  As  on  that  other  evening,  Starr  had  cut  straight 
across  the  loop,  going  east  instead  of  west.  And  where 
the  trail  forked  on  the  farther  side  he  met  Estan  Me 
dina  driving  a  big,  lathery  bay  horse  hitched  to  a  shiny, 
new  covered  buggy.  He  seemed  in  a  hurry,  but  he 
pulled  up  nevertheless  to  have  a  word  with  Starr.  And 
Starr,  always  observant  of  details,  saw  that  he  had 
three  or  four  packages  in  the  bottom  of  the  buggy, 
which  seemed  to  bear  out  E'stan's  statement  that  he  had 
been  to  town,  meaning  San  Bonito. 

Starr  rolled  a  cigarette,  and  smoked  it  while  he  gos 
siped  with  Estan  of  politics,  pretty  girls,  and  the  price 
of  mutton.  He  had  been  eyeing  the  new  buggy  specu- 
latively,  and  at  last  he  spoke  of  it  in  that  admiring  tone 
which  warms  the  heart  of  the  listener. 

"  Some  turnout,  Estan,"  he  summed  up.  "  But  you 
ought  to  be  driving  an  automobile.  All  your  friends 
are  getting  them." 

Estan  lifted  his  shoulders  in  true  Spanish  fashion 
and  smiled.  "  No,  amigo.  Me,  I  can  take  pleasure 
yet  from  horses.  And  the  madre,  she's  so  'fraid  of 
them  automobiles.  She  cries  yet  when  she  knows  I 
ride  in  one  a  little  bit.  Now  she's  so  proud,  when  I 


132       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

drive  the  new  buggy  home!  She  folds  so  pretty  her 
best  mantilla  over  her  head  and  rides  with  me  to  church, 
and  she  bows  so  polite  —  to  all  the  senoras  from  the 
new  buggy!  And  her  face  shines  with  the  happiness 
in  her  heart.  Oh,  no,  not  me  for  the  big  automobile !  " 
He  smiled  and  shrugged  and  threw  out  his  hands. 
"  I  like  best  to  see  my  money  walking  around  with  wool 
on  the  back!  Excuse,  seiior.  I  go  now  to  bring  the 
new  buggy  home  and  to  see  the  smile  of  my  mother/' 
Then  he  bethought  him  of  the  tradition  of  his  house. 
"  You  come  and  have  a  soft  bed  and  the  comfort  of  my 
house,"  he  urged.  "  It  is  far  to  San  Bonito,  and  it  is 
not  so  far^to  my  house." 

Starr  explained  plausibly  his  haste,  sent  a  friendly 
message  to  the  mother  and  Luis,  and  rode  on  thought 
fully.  RTow  and  then  he  turned  to  glance  behind  him 
at  the  dust  cloud  rolling  rapidly  around  the  head  of 
the  draw. 

Since  Estan  had  been  to  town  himself  that  day,  Starr 
reasoned  that  there  would  not  be  much  gained  by  scout 
ing  through  the  arroyos  that  led  near  the  Medina  ranch. 
Estan  would  have  seen  in  town  the  men  he  wanted  to 
see.  He  could  do  so  easily  enough  and  without  exciting 
the  least  suspicion;  for  San  Bonito  had  plenty  of  sa 
loons  that  were  popular,  and  yet  unobtrusive,  meeting 
places.  No  need  for  the  mysterious  automobile  to  make 


TRAIL  OF  SILVERTOWN  CORDS    133 

the  long  journey  through  the  sand  to-day,  if  Estan  Me 
dina  were  the  object  of  the  visit,  and  Starr  knew  of  no 
other  Mexican  out  that  way  who  would  be  important 
enough  to  have  a  hand  in  the  mixing  of  political  in 
trigue. 

He  rode  on,  letting  Rabbit  drop  into  his  poco-poco 
trail  trot.  He  carried  his  head  bent  forward  a  little, 
and  his  eyebrows  were  pulled  into  a  scowl  of  concen 
trated  thought  It  was  all  very  well  to  suspect  Estan 
Medina  and  to  keep  an  eye  upon  him,  but  there  were 
others  who  came  nearer  to  the  heart  of  the  plot.  He 
wanted  to  know  who  these  were,  and  he  believed  that 
if  he  could  once  identify  the  four  Mexicans  whom  Helen 
May  had  seen,  he  would  be  a  long  step  ahead.  He  con 
sidered  the  simple  expedient  of  asking  her  to  describe 
them  as  closely  as  she  could.  But  since  secrecy  was 
the  keynote  of  his  quest,  he  did  not  want  to  rouse  her 
curiosity,  and  for  purely  personal  reasons  he  did  want 
to  shield  her  as  far  as  possible  from  any  uneasiness  or 
any  entanglement  in  the  affair. 

Thinking  of  Helen  May  in  that  light  forced  him  to 
consider  what  would  be  her  plight  if  he  and  his  co- 
workers  failed,  if  the  plan  went  on  to  actual  fulfillment, 
and  the  Mexican  element  actually  did  revolt.  Babes, 
they  were,  those  two  alone  there  in  Sunlight  Basin,  with 
a  single-shot  "  twenty-two "  for  defense,  when  every 


134       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

American  rancher  in  three  States  considered  high- 
power  rifles  and  plenty  of  ammunition  as  necessary  in 
his  home  as  flour  and  hacon ! 

Starr  shivered  a  little  and  tried  to  pull  his  mind  away 
from  Helen  May  and  her  helplessness.  At  any  rate, 
he  comforted  himself,  they  had  the  dog  for  protection, 
the  dog  who  had  been  trained  to  jump  the  corral  fence 
at  any  hour  of  the  night  if  a  stranger,  and  especially  a 
Mexican  came  prowling  near. 

But  he  and  his  coworkers  must  not  fail.  If  intrigue 
burrowed  deep,  then  they  must  burrow  deeper. 

So  thinking,  he  came  just  after  sundown  to  where  the 
trail  branched  in  three  directions.  One  was  the  direct 
road  to  San  Bonito,  another  took  a  roundabout  way 
through  a  Mexican  settlement  on  the  river  and  so  came 
to  the  town  from  another  angle,  and  the  third  branch 
wound  over  the  granite  ridge  to  Malpais.  Studying 
the  problem  as  a  whole,  picturing  the  havoc  which  an 
uprising  would  wreak  upon  those  vast  grazing  grounds 
of  the  southwest,  and  how  two  nations  would  be  em 
broiled  in  spite  of  themselves,  he  was  hoping  that  his 
collaborators,  scattered  here  and  there  through  the  coun 
try,  men  whose  names  even  he  did  not  know,  were 
making  more  headway  than  he  seemed  to  be  making 
here. 

He  would  not  know,  of  course,  unless  he  were  needed 


TRAIL  OF  SILVERTOWN  CORDS    135 

to  assist  or  to  supplement  their  work  in  some  way.  But 
he  hoped  they  had  found  out  something  definite,  some 
thing  which  the  War  Department  could  take  hold  of; 
a  lever,  as  it  were,  to  pry  up  the  whole  scheme.  He 
was  thinking  of  these  things,  but  his  mind  was  never 
theless  alert  to  the  little  trail  signs  which  it  had  become 
second  nature  to  read.  So  he  saw,  there  in  the  dust  of 
the  trail,  where  a  buggy  had  turned  around  and  gone 
back  whence  it  had  come.  He  saw  that  it  had  been 
traveling  toward  town  but  had  turned  and  come  back. 
And  looking  more  closely,  he  saw  that  one  horse  had 
pulled  the  buggy. 

He  stopped  to  make  sure  of  that  and  to  search  for 
footprints.  But  those  he  found  were  indistinct,  blurred 
partly  by  the  looseness  of  the  sand  and  partly  by  the 
sparse  grass  that  grew  along  the  trail  there,  because 
the  buggy  had  turned  in  a  hollow.  He  went  on  a  couple 
of  rods,  and  he  saw  where  an  automobile  had  also  come 
to  this  point  and  had  turned  and  gone  back  toward 
town,  or  rather,  it  had  swung  sharply  around  and  taken 
the  trail  which  led  through  the  Mexican  settlement; 
but  he  guessed  that  it  had  gone  back  to  town,  for  all 
that.  And  the  tire  marks  were  made  by  Silvertown 
cords. 

Starr  stopped  and  looked  back  to  where  the  buggy 
tracks  were  faintly  outlined  in  the  dust  of  the  hollow, 


136       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

and  he  spoke  aloud  his  thought :  "  You'd  think,  just 
to  see  him  and  talk  to  him,  that  Estan  Medina  assays 
one  hundred  per  cent,  satisfied  farmer.  He's  sure  some 
fox  —  that  same  greaser !  "  After  that  he  shook  Rab 
bit  into  a  long,  distance-eating  lope  for  town. 

Night  came  with  its  flaring  forerunners  of  purple 
and  crimson  and  all  the  gorgeous  blendings  of  the  two. 
By  the  time  he  reached  San  Eonito,  the  stars  were  out, 
and  the  electric  lights  were  sputtering  on  certain  street 
corners.  Starr  had  rented  a  small  adobe  cabin  and  a 
corral  with  a  shed  on  the  outskirts  of  town  where  his 
movements  might  be  unobserved.  He  did  not  always 
use  these,  but  stopped  frequently  at  a  hotel  with  a 
garrulous  landlord,  and  stabled  his  horse  at  a  certain 
livery  which  he  knew  to  be  a  hotbed  of  the  town's 
gossip.  In  both  places  he  was  a  privileged  patron  and 
was  the  recipient  of  many  choice  bits  of  scandal  whis 
pered  behind  a  prudent  palm,  with  a  wink  now  and 
then  to  supply  the  finer  shades  of  meaning.  But  to 
night  he  chose  the  cabin  and  the  corral  sandwiched  be 
tween  a  transfer  company's  warehouse  and  a  steam 
laundry  that  had  been  closed  by  the  sheriff.  The 
cabin  fronted  on  a  street  that  was  seldom  used,  and  the 
corral  ran  back  to  a  dry  arroyo  that  was  used  mainly 
as  a  dump  for  the  town's  tin  cans  and  dead  cats  and 
such ;  not  a  particularly  attractive  place  but  secluded. 


TRAIL  OF  SILVERTOWN  CORDS    137 

He  turned  Rabbit  into  the  corral  and  fed  him,  went 
in  and  cooked  himself  some  supper,  and  afterwards,  in 
a  different  suit  and  shoes  and  a  hat  that  spoke  loudly 
of  the  latest  El  Paso  fad  in  men's  headgear,  he  strolled 
down  to  the  corner  and  up  the  next  street  to  the  nearest 
garage.  Ostensibly  he  was  looking  for  one  Pedro 
Miera,  who  had  a  large  sheep  ranch  out  east  of  San 
Bonito,  and  who  always  had  fat  sheep  for  sale.  Starr 
considered  it  safe  to  look  for  Miera,  whom  he  had  seen 
two  or  three  days  before  in  El  Paso  just  nicely  started 
on  a  ten-day  spree  that  never  stopped  short  of  the  city 
jail. 

Since  it  was  the  dull  hour  between  the  day's  business 
and  the  evening's  pleasure,  Starr  strolled  the  full  length 
of  the  garage  and  back  again  before  any  man  spoke  to 
him.  He  made  sure  that  no  car  there  had  the  kind 
of  tires  he  sought,  so  he  asked  if  Miera  and  his  machine 
had  showed  up  there  that  day,  and  left  as  soon  as  the 
man  said  no. 

San  Bonito  was  no  city  and  it  did  not  take  long  to 
make  the  round  of  the  garages.  No  one  had  seen  Miera 
that  day,  and  Starr's  disappointment  was  quite  notice 
able,  though  misunderstood.  Not  a  car  in  any  of  the 
four  garages  sported  Silvertown  cords. 

At  the  last  garage  an  arc  light  flared  over  the  wide 
doorway.  Starr,  feeling  pretty  well  disgusted,  was 


138       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

leaving  when  he  saw  a  tire  track  alongside  the  red, 
gasoline  filling-pump.  He  stopped  and,  under  cover  of 
lighting  his  cigarette,  he  studied  the  tread.  Beyond 
all  doubt  the  car  he  wanted  had  stopped  there  for  gas, 
But  the  garage  man  was  a  Mexican,  so  Starr  dared  not 
risk  a  question  or  show  any  interest  whatever  in  the 
car  whose  tires  left  those  long-lined  imprints  to  tell  of 
its  passing.  He  puffed  at  his  cigarette  until  he  had 
studied  the  angle  of  the  front-wheel  track  and  decided 
that  the  car  must  have  been  headed  south,  and  that  it 
had  made  a  rather  short  turn  away  from  the  pump. 

This  was  puzzling  for  a  while.  The  driver  might 
have  been  turning  around  to  go  back  the  way  he  had 
come.  But  it  was  more  likely  that  he  had  driven  into 
the  cross  street  to  the  west.  He  strolled  over  that  way, 
but  the  light  was  too  dim  to  trace  automobile  tracks  in 
the  dust  of  the  street  so  he  went  back  to  the  adobe  cabin 
and  put  in  the  next  hour  oiling  and  cleaning  and  polish 
ing  a  25-35  carbine  which  he  meant  to  give  Helen  May, 
and  in  filling  a  cartridge  belt  with  shells. 

He  sat  for  some  time  turning  two  six-shooters  over  in 
his  hands,  trying  to  decide  which  would  please  her  most. 
One  was  lighter  than  the  other,  with  an  easier  trigger 
action;  almost  too  easy  for  a  novice,  he  told  himself. 
But  it  had  a  pearl  handle  with  a  bulldog  carved  on  the 
side  that  would  show  when  the  gun  was  in  its  holster. 


TRAIL  OF  SILVERTOWN  CORDS     139 

She'd  like  that  fancy  stuff,  he  supposed.  Also  he  could 
teach  her  to  shoot  straighter  with  that  light  "pull." 
But  the  other  was  what  Starr  called  a  sure-enough  go- 
getter. 

He  finally  decided,  of  course,  to  give  her  the  fancy 
one.  For  Vic  he  would  have  to  buy  a  gun;  an  auto 
matic,  maybe.  He'd  have  to  talk  coyotes  pretty  strong, 
in  order  to  impress  it  upon  them  that  they  must  never 
go  away  anywhere  without  a  gun.  Good  thing  there 
was  a  bounty  on  coyotes;  the  money  would  look  big  to 
the  kid,  anyway.  It  occurred  to  him  further  that  he 
could  tell  them  there  was  danger  of  running  into  a 
rabid  coyote.  Rabies  had  caused  a  good  deal  of  trouble 
in  the  State,  so  he  could  make  the  danger  plausible 
enough. 

He  did  not  worry  much  over  frightening  the  girl. 
She  had  nerve  enough.  Think  of  her  tackling  that 
ranch  proposition,  with  just  that  cub  brother  to  help! 
When  Starr  thought  of  that  slim,  big-eyed,  smiling  girl 
in  white  fighting  poverty  and  the  white  plague  together 
out  there  on  the  rim  of  the  desert,  a  lump  came  up  in 
his  throat.  She  had  nerve  enough  —  that  plucky  little 
lady  with  the  dull-gold  hair,  and  the  brown  velvet 
eyes !  —  more  nerve  than  he  had  where  she  was  con 
cerned. 

He  went  to  bed  and  lay  for  a  long  time  thinking  of 


140       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

Helen  May  out  there  in  that  two-roomed  adobe  cabin, 
with  a  fifteen-year-old  boy  for  protection  and  miles  of 
wilderness  between  her  and  any  other  human  habita 
tion.  It  was  small  comfort  then  to  Starr  that  she  had 
the  dog.  One  bullet  can  settle  a  dog,  and  then  — 
Starr  could  not  look  calmly  at  the  possibility  of  what 
might  happen  then. 

"  They've  no  business  out  there  like  that,  alone !  " 
he  muttered,  rising  to  an  elbow  and  thumping  his  hard 
pillow  viciously.  "  Good  Lord  1  Haven't  they  got  any 
folks?" 


CHAPTER  ELEVEN 

THE    WIND    BLOWS    MANY    STRAWS 

SO  OK  after  daylight,  Rabbit  snorted  and  ran  a 
little  way  down  the  corral  toward  the  cabin. 
Starr,  trained  to  light  sleeping  and  instant  waking,  was 
up  and  standing  back  from  the  little  window  with  his 
six-shooter  in  his  hand  before  Rabbit  had  stopped  to 
whirl  and  look  for  what  had  scared  him.  So  Starr 
was  in  time  to  see  a  "  big  four  "  Stetson  hat  with  a 
horsehair  hatband  sink  from  sight  behind  the  high  board 
fence  at  the  rear  of  the  corral. 

Starr  waited.  Rabbit  shook  his  head  as  though  he 
were  disgusted  with  himself,  and  began  nosing  the 
ground  for  the  wisps  of  hay  which  a  high  wind  had 
blown  there.  Starr  retreated  to  a  point  in  the  room  where 
he  could  see  without  risk  of  being  seen,  and  watched. 
In  a  few  minutes,  when  the  horse  had  forgotten  all 
about  the  incident  and  was  feeding  again,  the  Stetson 
hat  very  cautiously  rose  once  more.  Under  its  gray 
brim  Starr  saw  a  pair  of  black  eyes  peer  over  the  fence. 
He  watched  them  glancing  here  and  thetre,  coming 


142       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

finally  to  rest  upon  the  cabin  itself.  They  watched 
Rabbit ,  and  Starr  knew  that  they  watched  for  some 
sign  of  alarm  rather  than  from  any  great  interest  in 
the  horse.  Rabbit  lifted  his  head  and  looked  that  \vay 
boredly  for  a  moment  before  he  went  back  to  his  feed 
ing,  and  the  eyes  lifted  a  little,  so  that  the  upper  part 
of  the  owner's  face  came  into  view.  A  young  Mexican, 
Starr  judged  him,  because  of  his  smooth  skin  around 
the  eyes.  He  waited.  The  fellow  rose  now  so  that 
the  fence  came  just  below  his  lips,  which  were  full  and 
curved  in  the  pleasant  lines  of  youth.  His  eyes  kept 
moving  this  way  and  that,  so  that  the  whites  showed 
with  each  turn  of  the  eyeball.  Starr  studied  what  he 
could  see  of  the  face.  Thick  eyebrows  well  formed 
except  that  the  left  one  took  a  whimsical  turn  upward ; 
heavy  lashes,  the  high,  thin  nose  of  the  Mexican  who 
is  part  Indian  —  as  are  practically  all  of  the  lower,  or 
peon  class  —  that  much  he  had  plenty  of  time  to  note. 
Then  there  was  the  mouth,  which  Starr  knew  might  be 
utterly  changed  in  appearance  when  one  saw  the  chin 
that  went  with  it. 

A  hundred  young  fellows  in  San  Bbnito  might  an 
swer  equally  well  a  description  of  those  features.  And 
the  full-crowned  gray  Stetson  may  be  seen  by  the  thou 
sand  in  at  least  four  States;  and  horsehair  hatbands 
may  be  bought  in  any  saddlery  for  two  or  three  dol- 


WIND  BLOWS  MANY  STRAWS    143 

lars  —  perhaps  for  less,  if  one  does  not  demand  too 
long  a  pair  of  tassels  —  and  are  loved  by  Indians  and 
those  who  think  they  are  thus  living  up  to  the  pictur 
esque  Old  West.  So  far  as  he  could  see,  there  was 
nothing  much  to  identify  the  fellow,  unless  he  could 
get  a  better  look  at  him. 

The  Mexican  gave  another  long  look  at  the  cabin, 
studying  every  point,  even  to  the  roof.  Then  he  tried 
to  see  into  the  shed  where  Starr  kept  his  saddle  and 
where  Rabbit  could  shelter  himself  from  the  cold  winds. 
There  was  no  door,  no  front,  even,  on  the  side  toward 
the  house.  But  the  end  of  the  shed  was  built  out  into 
the  corral  so  that  the  fellow  could  not  see  around  its 
corner. 

He  moved  along  the  fence,  which  gave  Starr  a  very 
good  idea  of  his  height,  and  down  to  the  very  corner 
of  the  vacant  laundry  building.  There  he  stopped  and 
looked  again.  He  was  eyeing  Starr's  saddle,  apparently 
taking  in  every  detail  of  its  workmanship.  He  looked 
again  at  Rabbit,  who  was  turned  then  so  that  his  brand, 
the  double  Turkey-track,  stood  out  plainly  on  both 
thighs.  Then,  with  another  slant-eyed  inspection  of 
the  cabin,  he  ducked  down  behind  the  fence  and  dis 
appeared,  his  going  betrayed  by  his  hat  crown  which 
was  taller  than  he  imagined  and  showed  a  good  four 
inches  above  the  fence. 


144       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

Starr  had  edged  along  the  dark  wall  of  the  room  so 
that  he  had  kept  the  man  in  sight.  Kow,  when  the 
hat  crown  moved  away  down  the  trail  that  skirted  the 
garbage-filled  arroyo,  he  snorted,  threw  hie  gun  down 
on  the  bed,  and  began  to  dress  himself,  rummaging  in 
his  "  warbag  "  for  a  gray  checked  cap  and  taking  down 
from  the  wall  a  gray  suit  that  he  had  never  liked  and 
had  never  worn  since  the  day  it  came  from  the  mail, 
looking  altogether  different  from  the  four-inch  square 
he  had  chosen  from  a  tailor  agent's  sample  book.  He 
snorted  again  when  he  had  the  suit  on,  and  surveyed  it 
with  a  dissatisfied,  downward  glance.  In  his  opinion 
he  looked  like  a  preacher  trying  to  disguise  himself  as 
a  sport,  but  to  complete  the  combination  he  unearthed 
a  pair  of  tan  shoes  and  put  them  on.  After  that  he 
stood  for  a  minute  staring  down  the  fresh-creased  gray 
trousers  to  his  toes. 

"  Looks  like  the  very  devil ! "  he  snorted  again. 
"  But  anyway,  it's  different."  He  dusted  the  cap  by 
the  simple  expedient  of  slapping  it  several  times  against 
his  leg.  When  he  had  hung  it  on  the  back  of  his  head 
and  pulled  it  well  down  in  front  —  as  nine  out  of  ten 
men  always  put  on  a  cap  —  he  did  indeed  look  different, 
though  he  did  not  look  at  all  like  the  demon  he  named. 
Helen  May,  for  instance,  would  have  needed  a  second 
close  glance  before  she  recognized  him,  but  that  glance 


WIND  BLOWS  MANY  STRAWS     145 

would  probably  have  carried  with  it  a  smile  for  his 
improved  appearance. 

He  surveyed  as  much  of  the  neighborhood  as  he  could 
see  through  the  windows,  looked  at  his  watch,  and  saw 
that  it  was  late  enough  for  him  to  appear  down  town 
without  exciting  comment  from  the  early  birds,  and 
went  out  into  the  corral  and  fed  Rabbit.  He  looked 
over  the  fence  where  the  Mexican  had  stood,  but  the 
faint  imprint  of  the  man's  boots  were  not  definite 
enough  to  tell  him  anything.  He  surveyed  the  neigh 
borhood  from  different  angles  and  could  see  no  trace 
of  any  one  watching  the  place,  so  he  felt  fairly  satisfied 
that  the  fellow  had  gone  for  the  present,  though  he 
believed  it  very  likely  that  he  might  return  later. 

As  he  saw  the  incident,  he  was  not  yet  considered 
worth  shadowing,  but  had  in  some  way  excited  a  certain 
degree  of  curiosity  about  himself.  Starr  did  not  like 
that  at  all.  He  had  hoped  to  impress  every  one  with 
his  perfect  harmlessness,  and  to  pass  for  a  stock  buyer 
and  nothing  else. 

He  could  not  imagine  how  he  had  possibly  excited 
suspicion,  and  he  wanted  to  lull  it  immediately  and 
permanently.  The  obvious  way  to  do  that  would  be  to 
rise  late,  saddle  Rabbit  and  ride  around  town  a  little  — 
to  the  post  office  and  a  saloon,  for  instance  —  get  his 
breakfast  at  the  best-patronized  place  in  town,  and  then 


146       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

go  about  his  legitimate  business.  On  the  other  hand, 
he  wanted  to  try  and  trace  those  cord  tires  down  the 
cross  street,  if  he  could,  and  he  could  not  well  do  that 
on  horseback  without  betraying  himself. 

The  shed  was  built  out  flush  with  the  arroyo  edge, 
so  that  at  the  rear  of  the  corral  one  could  only  go  as 
far  as  the  gate,  which  closed  against  the  end  of  the 
shed.  It  occurred  to  Starr  that  if  the  young  Mexican 
had  been  looking  for  something  to  steal,  he  would  prob 
ably  have  come  in  at  the  gate,  which  was  fastened  only 
with  a  stout  hook  on  the  inside.  The  arroyo  bank  had 
caved  under  the  farther  corner  of  the  shed,  so  that  a 
hole  the  size  of  a  large  barrel  showed  at  that  end  of 
the  manger.  Cats  and  dogs,  and  perhaps  boys,  had 
gone  in  and  out  there  until  a  crude  kind  of  trail  was 
worn  down  the  bank  to  the  arroyo  bottom.  At  some 
risk  to  his  tan  shoes  and  his  new  gray  suit,  Starr 
climbed  into  the  manger  and  let  himself  down  that 
hole.  The  trail  was  firm  and  dry  and  so  steep  he 
had  to  dig  his  heels  in  to  keep  from  tobogganing  to  the 
bottom,  but  once  down  he  had  only  to  follow  the  arroyo 
bottom  to  a  place  where  he  could  climb  out.  Before 
he  found  such  a  place  he  came  to  a  deep,  dry  gully  that 
angled  back  toward  the  business  part  of  town.  A  foot 
path  in  the  bottom  of  it  encouraged  him  to  follow  it, 
and  a  couple  of  hundred  yards  farther  along  he  emerged 


WIND  BLOWS  MANY  STRAWS    147 

upon  the  level  end  of  a  street  given  over  to  second 
hand  stores,  junk  shops  and  a  plumber's  establishment. 
From  there  to  the  main  street  was  easy  enough. 

As  he  had  expected,  only  a  few  citizens  were  abroad 
and  Starr  strolled  over  to  the  cross  street  he  wanted 
to  inspect.  He  found  the  long-lined  tread  of  the  tires 
he  sought  plainly  marked  where  they  had  turned  into 
this  street.  After  that  he  lost  them  where  they  had 
been  blotted  out  by  the  broad  tires  of  a  truck.  When 
he  was  sure  that  he  could  trace  them  no  farther,  he 
turned  back,  meaning  to  have  breakfast  at  his  favorite 
restaurant.  And  as  he  turned,  he  met  face  to  face  a 
tall  young  Mexican  in  a  full-crowned  Stetson  banded 
with  horsehair. 

Now,  as  I  have  said  before,  San  Bonito  was  full  of 
young  Mexicans  who  wore  Stetson  hats  and  favored 
horsehair  bands  around  them.  Starr  glanced  at  the 
fellow  sharply,  got  the  uninterested,  impersonal  look  of 
the  perfect  stranger  who  neither  knows  nor  cares  who 
you  are,  and  who  has  troubles  of  his  own  to  occupy  his 
mind;  the  look  which  nineteen  persons  out  of  twenty 
give  to  a  stranger  on  the  street.  Starr  went  on  uncon 
cernedly  whistling  under  his  breath,  but  at  the  corner 
he  turned  sharply  to  the  left,  and  in  turning  he  flicked 
a  glance  back  at  the  fellow.  The  Mexican  was  not  giv 
ing  him  any  attention  whatever,  as  far  as  he  could  see ; 


148       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

on  the  contrary,  lie  was  staring  down  at  the  ground  as 
though  he,  too,  were  looking  for  something.  Starr  gave 
him  another  stealthy  look,  gained  nothing  from  it,  and 
shrugged  his  shoulders  and  went  on. 

He  ate  his  breakfast  while  he  turned  the  matter  over 
in  his  mind.  What  had  he  done  to  rouse  suspicion 
against  himself  ?  He  could  not  remember  anything,  for 
he  had  not  yet  found  anything  much  to  work  on ;  noth 
ing,  in  fact,  except  that  slight  clue  of  the  automobile, 
and  he  did  not  even  know  who  had  been  in  it.  He 
suspected  that  they  had  gone  to  meet  Estan  Medina, 
but  as  long  as  that  suspicion  was  tucked  away  in  the 
back  of  his  mind,  how  was  any  one  going  to  know  that 
he  suspected  Estan?  He  had  not  been  near  the  chief 
of  police  or  the  sheriff  or  any  other  officer.  He  had 
not  talked  with  any  man  about  the  Mexican  Alliance, 
nor  had  he  asked  any  man  about  it.  Instead,  he  had 
bought  sheep  and  cattle  and  goats  and  hogs  from  the 
ranchers,  and  he  had  paid  a  fair  price  for  them  and 
had  shipped  them  openly,  under  the  eye  of  the  stock 
inspector,  to  the  El  Paso  Meat  Company.  So  far  he 
had  kept  his  eyes  open  and  his  mouth  shut,  and  had 
waited  until  some  ripple  on  the  surface  betrayed  the 
disturbance  underneath. 

He  was  not  sure  that  the  young  man  he  met  on  the 
street  was  the  one  who  had  been  spying  over  the  fence, 


WIND  BLOWS  MANY  STRAWS    149 

but  he  did  not  mean  to  take  it  for  granted  that  he  was 
not  the  same,  and  perhaps  be  sorry  afterwards  for  his 
carelessness.  He  strolled  around  town,  bought  an  au 
tomatic  gun  and  a  lot  of  cartridges  for  Vic,  went  into 
a  barber  shop  on  a  corner  and  had  a  shave  and  a  hair 
cut,  and  kept  his  eyes  open  for  a  tall  young  Mexi 
can  who  might  be  unduly  interested  in  his  move 
ments. 

He  met  various  acquaintances  who  expressed  sur 
prise  at  not  having  seen  him  around  the  hotel.  To 
these  he  explained  that  he  had  rented  a  corral  for  his 
horse,  where  he  could  be  sure  of  the  feed  Rabbit  was 
getting,  and  to  save  the  expense  of  a  livery  stable. 
Rabbit  had  been  kinda  off  his  feed,  he  said,  and  he 
wanted  to  look  after  him  himself.  So  he  had  been 
sleeping  in  the  cabin  that  went  with  the  corral. 

His  friends  thought  that  was  a  sensible  move,  and 
praised  his  judgment,  and  Starr  felt  better.  He  did 
not,  however,  tell  them  just  where  the  corral  was  lo 
cated,  He  had  some  notion  of  moving  to  another  place, 
so  he  considered  that  it  would  be  just  as  well  not  to  go 
into  details. 

So  thinking,  he  took  his  packages  and  started  across 
to  the  gully  which  led  into  the  arroyo  that  let  him  into 
his  place  by  the  back  way.  He  meant  to  return  as  he 
had  come;  and  if  any  one  happened  to  be  spying,  he 


150       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

would  think  Starr  had  chosen  that  route  as  a  short  cut 
to  town,  which  it  was. 

A  block  away  from  the  little  side  street  that  opened 
to  the  gully,  Starr  stopped  short,  shocked  into  a  keener 
attention  to  his  surroundings.  He  had  just  stepped 
over  an  automobile  track  on  the  walk,  where  a  machine 
had  crossed  it  to  enter  a  gateway  which  was  now  closed. 
And  the  track  had  been  made  by  a  cord  tire.  He  looked 
up  at  the  gate  of  unpainted  planks,  heavy-hinged  and 
set  into  a  high  adobe  wall  such  as  one  sees  so  often  in 
New  Mexico.  The  gate  was  locked,  as  he  speedily  dis 
covered;  locked  on  the  inside,  he  guessed,  with  bars  or 
great  hooks  or  something. 

He  went  on  to  the  building  that  seemed  to  belong  to 
the  place;  a  long  two-story  adobe  building  with  the 
conventional  two-story  gallery  running  along  the  entire 
front,  and  with  the  deep-set,  barred  windows  that  are 
also  typically  Mexican.  Every  town  in  the  adobe  sec 
tion  of  the  southwest  has  a  dozen  or  so  buildings  almost 
exactly  like  this  one.  The  door  was  blue-painted,  with 
the  paint  scaling  off.  Over  it  was  a  plain  lettered 
sign:  LAS  NUEVAS. 

Starr  had  seen  copies  of  that  paper  at  the  Mexican 
ranches  he  visited,  and  as  far  as  he  knew,  it  was  an 
ordinary  newspaper  of  the  country-town  style,  printed 
in  Mexican  for  the  benefit  of  a  large  percentage  of 


WIND  BLOWS  MANY  STRAWS    151 

Mexican- Americans  whose  knowledge  of  English  print 
is  extremely  hazy. 

He  walked  on  slowly  to  the  corner,  puzzling  over 
this  new  twist  in  the  faint  clue  he  followed.  It  had 
not  occurred  to  him  that  so  innocuous  a  sheet  as  Las 
Nuevas  should  be  implicated,  and  yet,  why  not?  He 
turned  at  the  corner  and  went  back  to  the  nearest 
newstand,  where  he  bought  an  El  Paso  paper  for  a 
blind  and  laid  it  down  on  a  pile  of  Las  Nuevas  while 
he  lighted  his  cigarette.  He  talked  with  the  little,  pock 
marked  Mexican  who  kept  the  shop,  and  when  the  fel 
low's  back  was  turned  toward  him  for  a  minute,  he  stole 
a  copy  of  Las  Nuevas  off  the  pile  and  strolled  out  of 
the  shop  with  it  wrapped  in  his  El  Paso  paper. 

He  stole  it  because  he  knew  that  not  many  Americans 
ever  bought  the  paper,  and  he  feared  that  the  hombre 
in  charge  might  wonder  why  an  American  should  pay 
a  nickel  for  a  copy  of  Las  Nuevas.  As  it  happened, 
the  hombre  in  charge  was  looking  into  a  mirror  cun 
ningly  placed  for  the  guarding  of  stock  from  pilferers, 
and  he  saw  Starr  steal  the  paper.  Also  he  saw  Starr 
slip  a  dime  under  a  stack  of  magazines  where  it  would 
be  found  later  on.  So  he  wondered  a  great  deal  more 
than  he  would  have  done  if  Starr  had  bought  the  paper, 
but  Starr  did  not  know  that. 

Starr  went  back  to  his  cabin  by  way  of  the  arroyo 


152       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

and  the  hole  in  the  manger.  When  he  unlocked  the 
door  and  went  in,  he  had  an  odd  feeling  that  some 
one  had  been  there  in  his  ahsence.  He  stood  still  just 
inside  the  door  and  inspected  everything,  trying  to 
remember  just  where  his  clothes  had  been  scattered, 
where  he  had  left  his  hat,  just  how  his  blankets  had 
been  flung  back  on  the  bed  when  he  jumped  up  to  see 
what  had  startled  Rabbit;  every  detail,  in  fact,  that 
helps  to  make  up  the  general  look  of  a  room  left  in 
disorder. 

He  did  remember,  for  his  memory  had  been  well 
trained  for  details.  He  knew  that  his  hat  had  been  on 
the  table  with  the  front  toward  the  wall.  It  was  there 
now,  just  as  he  had  flung  it  down.  He  knew  that  his 
pillow  had  been  dented  with  the  shape  of  his  head,  and 
that  it  had  lain  askew  on  the  bed ;  it  was  just  as  it  had 
been.  Everything  —  his  boots,  his  dark  coat  spread 
over  the  back  of  the  chair,  his  trousers  across  the  foot 
of  the  bed  —  everything  was  the  same,  yet  the  feeling 
persisted. 

Starr  was  no  more  imaginative  than  he  needed  to  be 
for  the  work  he  had  to  do.  He  was  not  in  the  least 
degree  nervous  over  that  work.  Yet  he  was  sure  some 
one  had  been  in  the  room  during  his  absence,  and  he 
could  not  tell  why  he  was  sure.  At  least,  for  ten  min 
utes  and  more  he  could  not  tell  why.  Then  his  eyes 


WIND  BLOWS  MANY  STRAWS    158 

lighted  upon  a  cigarette  stub  lying  on  the  hearth  of  the 
little  cookstove  in  one  corner  of  the  room.  Starr  al 
ways  used  "  wheat  straw  "  papers,  which  were  brown. 
This  cigarette  had  been  rolled  in  white  paper.  He 
picked  it  up  and  discovered  that  one  end  was  still  moist 
from  the  lips  of  the  smoker,  and  the  other  end  was  still 
warm  from  the  fire  that  had  half  consumed  it.  Starr 
gave  an  enlightened  sniff  and  knew  it  was  his  olfactory 
nerves  that  had  warned  him  of  an  alien  presence  there ; 
for  the  tobacco  in  this  cigarette  was  not  the  brand  he 
smoked. 

He  stood  thinking  it  over;  puzzling  again  over  the 
mystery  of  their  suspicion  of  him.  He  tried  to  recall 
some  careless  act,  some  imprudent  question,  an  ill-con 
sidered  remark.  He  was  giving  up  the  riddle  again 
when  that  trained  memory  of  his  flashed  before  him  a 
picture  that,  trivial  as  it  was  in  itself,  yet  was  as  en 
lightening  as  the  white  paper  of  the  cigarette  on  the 
stove  hearth. 

Two  days  before,  just  after  his  last  arrival  in  San 
Bonito,  he  had  sent  a  wire  to  a  certain  man  in  El  Paso. 
The  message  itself  had  not  been  of  very  great  im 
portance,  but  the  man  to  whom  he  had  sent  it  had  no 
connection  whatever  with  the  Meat  Company.  He  was, 
in  fact,  the  go-between  in  the  investigation  of  the  Secret 
Service.  Through  him  the  War  Department  issued 


154       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

commands  to  Starr  and  his  fellows,  and  through  him  it 
kept  in  touch  with  the  situation.  Starr  had  used  two 
code  words  and  a  number  in  that  message. 

And,  he  now  distinctly  remembered,  the  girl  who 
had  waited  upon  him  was  dark,  with  a  Spanish  cast  of 
features.  When  she  had  counted  the  words  and  checked 
the  charge  and  pushed  his  change  across  to  him,  she 
had  given  him  a  keen,  appraising  look  from  under  her 
lashes,  though  the  smile  she  sent  with  it  had  given  the 
glance  a  feminine  and  wholly  flattering  interpretation. 
Starr  remembered  that  look  now  and  saw  in  it  some 
thing  more  than  coquetry.  He  remembered,  too,  that 
he  had  glanced  back  from  the  doorway  and  caught  her 
still  looking  after  him;  and  that  he  had  smiled,  and 
she  had  smiled  swiftly  in  return  and  had  then  turned 
away  abruptly  to  her  work.  To  her  work?  Starr  re 
membered  now  that  she  had  turned  and  spoken  to  a 
sulky-faced  messenger  boy  who  was  sitting  slumped 
down  on  the  curve  of  his  back  with  his  tightly  buttoned 
tunic  folded  up  to  his  armpits  so  that  his  hands  could 
burrow  to  the  very  bottom  of  his  pockets.  He  had 
looked  up,  muttered  something,  reluctantly  removed 
himself  from  the  chair,  and  started  away.  The  boy, 
too,  had  the  Mexican  look. 

Well,  at  any  rate,  he  knew  now  how  the  thing  had 
started.  He  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief  and  threw  himself 


WIND  BLOWS  MANY  STRAWS    155 

down  on  the  bed,  wadding  the  pillow  into  a  hard  ball 
under  the  nape  of  his  neck  and  unfolding  the  Mexican 
newspaper.  He  had  intended  to  move  camp;  but  now 
that  they  had  begun  to  trail  him,  he  decided  to  stay 
where  he  was  and  give  them  a  run  for  their  money,  as 
he  put  it. 

Starr  could  read  Spanish  well  enough  for  ordinary 
purposes.  He  went  carefully  through  Las  Nuevas, 
from  war  news  to  the  local  advertisements.  There  was 
nothing  that  could  even  be  twisted  into  a  message  of 
hidden  meaning  to  the  initiated.  Las  Nuevas  was 
what  it  called  itself:  The  News.  It  was  exactly  as  in 
nocuous  as  he  had  believed  it  to  be.  Its  editorial  page, 
even,  was  absolutely  banal  in  its  servility  to  the  city, 
county,  state  and  national  policy. 

"  That's  a  hell  of  a  thing  to  steal !  "  grumbled  Starr, 
and  threw  the  paper  disgustedly  from  him. 


CHAPTEK  TWELVE 

STARR   FINDS    SOMETHING    IN    A   SECRET    ROOM 

THAT  day  Starr  rode  out  into  the  country  and 
looked  at  a  few  head  of  cows  and  steers  that  a 
sickly  American  wanted  to  sell  so  he  could  go  East  for 
his  health  (there  being  in  most  of  us  some  peculiar 
psychological  leaning  toward  seeking  health  afar). 
Starr  went  back  to  town  afterwards  and  made  Kabbit 
comfortable  in  the  corral,  reasoning  that  if  he  were 
going  to  be  watched,  he  would  be  watched  no  matter 
where  he  went;  but  he  ate  his  supper  in  the  dining 
room  of  the  Plaza  Hotel,  and  sat  in  the  lobby  talking 
with  a  couple  of  facetious  drummers  until  the  mechan 
ical  piano  in  the  movie  show  across  the  street  began  to 
play. 

He  went  to  the  show,  sat  through  it  patiently,  strolled 
out  when  it  was  over,  and  visited  a  saloon  or  two. 
Then,  when  he  thought  his  evening  might  be  consid 
ered  well  rounded  out  with  harmless  diversions,  he 
went  out  to  his  cabin,  following  the  main  street  but 
keeping  well  in  the  shadow  as  though  he  wished  to  avoid 
observation. 


STARR  FINDS  SOMETHING     157 

He  had  reason  to  believe  that  some  one  followed  him 
out  there,  which  did  not  displease  him  much.  He 
lighted  his  lamp  and  fussed  around  for  half  an  hour  or 
so  before  he  blew  out  the  light  and  went  to  bed. 

At  three  o'clock  in  the  morning,  with  a  wind  howling 
in  from  the  mountains,  Starr  got  up  and  dressed  in  the 
dark,  fumbling  for  a  pair  of  "  sneakers  "  he  had  placed 
beside  his  bed.  He  let  himself  out  into  the  corral,  be 
ing  careful  to  keep  close  to  the  wall  of  the  house  until 
he  reached  the  high  board  fence.  Here,  too,  he  had 
to  feel  his  way  because  of  the  pitchy  blackness  of  the 
night;  and  if  the  rattling  wind  prevented  him  from 
hearing  any  footsteps  that  might  be  behind  him,  it  also 
covered  the  slight  sound  of  his  own  progress  down  the 
fence  to  the  shed.  But  he  did  not  think  he  would  be 
seen  or  followed,  for  he  had  been  careful  to  oil  the 
latch  and  hinges  of  his  door  before  he  went  to  bed ;  and 
he  would  be  a  faithful  spy  indeed  who  shivered  through 
the  whole  night,  watching  a  man  who  apparently  slept 
unsuspectingly  and  at  peace. 

Down  the  hole  from  the  manger  Starr  slid,  and  into 
the  arroyo  bottom.  He  stumbled  over  a  can  of  some 
sort,  but  the  wind  was  rattling  everything  movable,  so 
he  merely  swore  under  his  breath  and  went  on.  He 
was  not  a  range  man  for  nothing,  and  he  found  his  way 
easily  to  the  adobe  house  with  LAS  NUEVAS  over  the 


158       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

door,  and  the  adobe  wall  with  the  plank  gate  that  had 
been  closed. 

It  was  closed  now,  and  the  house  itself  was  black  and 
silent.  Starr  stooped  and  gave  a  jump,  caught  the 
top  of  the  wall  with  his  hooked  fingers,  went  up  and 
straddled  the  top  where  it  was  pitch  black  against  the 
building.  For  that  matter,  it  was  nearly  pitch  black 
whichever  way  one  looked,  that  night.  He  sat  there 
for  five  minutes,  listening  and  straining  his  eyes  into 
the  enclosure.  Somewhere  a  piece  of  corrugated  iron 
banged  against  a  board.  Once  he  heard  a  cat  meow, 
away  back  at  the  rear  of  the  lot.  He  waited  through 
a  comparative  lull,  and  when  the  wind  whooped  again 
and  struck  the  building  with  a  fresh  blast,  Starr  jumped 
to  the  ground  within  the  yard. 

He  crouched  for  a  minute,  a  shot-loaded  quirt  held 
butt  forward  in  his  hand.  He  did  not  want  to  use  a 
gun  unless  he  had  to,  and  the  loaded  end  of  a  good  quirt 
makes  a  very  efficient  substitute  for  a  blackjack.  But 
there  was  no  movement  save  the  wind,  so  presently  he 
followed  the  wall  of  the  house  down  to  the  corner,  stood 
there  listening  for  awhile  and  went  on,  feeling  his  way 
rapidly  around  the  entire  yard  as  a  blind  man  feels  out 
a  room  that  is  strange  to  him. 

He  found  the  garage,  with  a  door  that  kept  swinging 
to  au4  fro  in  the  wind,  banging  shut  with  a  slam  and 


STARR  FINDS  SOMETHING     159 

then  squealing  the  hinges  as  it  opened  again  with  the  suc 
tion.  He  drew  a  breath  of  relief  when  he  came  to  that 
door,  for  he  knew  that  any  man  who  happened  to  be  on 
guard  would  have  fastened  it  for  the  sake  of  his  nerves 
if  for  nothing  else. 

When  he  was  sure  that  the  place  was  deserted  for 
the  night,  Starr  went  back  to  the  garage  and  went  in 
side.  He  fastened  the  door  shut  behind  him  and 
switched  on  his  pocket  searchlight  to  examine  the  place. 
If  he  had  expected  to  see  the  mysterious  black  car  there 
he  was  disappointed,  for  the  garage  was  empty  —  which 
perhaps  explained  the  swinging  door,  that  had  been 
left  open  in  the  evening  when  there  was  no  wind. 
Small  comfort  in  that  for  Starr,  for  it  immediately 
occurred  to  him  that  the  car  would  probably  return  be 
fore  daylight  if  it  had  gone  after  dark. 

He  turned  his  hand  slowly,  painting  the  walls  with 
a  brush  of  brilliant  light.  "  Huh !  "  he  grunted  under 
his  breath.  For  there  in  a  far  corner  were  four  Sil- 
vertown  cord  tires  with  the  dust  of  the  desert  still 
clinging  to  the  creases  of  the  lined  tread.  Nearby, 
where  they  had  been  torn  off  in  haste  and  flung  aside, 
were  the  paper  wrappings  of  four  other  tires,  sup 
posedly  new. 

So  they  —  he  had  no  more  definite  term  by  which 
to  call  them  —  they  had  sensed  the  risk  of  those  un- 


160       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

usual  tires,  and  had  changed  for  others  of  a  more  com 
monly-used  brand!  Starr  wondered  if  some  one  had 
seen  him  looking  at  tire-tracks,  the  young  Mexican  he 
had  met  on  the  side  street,  perhaps.  Or  the  Mexican 
garage  man  may  have  caught  him  studying  that  track 
by  the  filling-pump. 

"  Well,"  Starr  summed  up  the  significance  of  the  dis 
covery,  "  the  game's  open ;  now  we'll  get  action." 

He  glanced  down  to  make  sure  that  he  had  not  left 
any  tracks  on  the  floor  and  was  glad  he  had  not  worn 
his  boots.  Then  he  snapped  off  the  light,  went  out,  and 
left  the  door  swinging  and  banging  as  it  had  been  be 
fore.  If  he  learned  no  more,  at  least  he  was  paid  for 
the  trip. 

He  went  straight  to  the  rear  door  of  the  building, 
taking  no  pains  to  conceal  his  footsteps.  The  wind, 
he  knew,  would  brush  them  out  completely  with  the 
sand  and  dust  it  sent  swirling  around  the  yard  with 
every  gust.  As  he  had  hoped,  the  door  was  not  bolted 
but  locked  with  a  key,  so  he  let  himself  in  with  one  of 
the  pass  keys  he  carried  for  just  such  work  as  this.  He 
felt  at  the  windows  and  saw  that  the  blinds  were  down, 
and  turned  on  his  light. 

The  place  had  all  the  greasy  dinginess  of  the  ordinary 
print  shop.  The  presses  were  here,  and  the  motor  that 
operated  them.  Being  a  bi-weekly  and  not  having  much 


STARR  FINDS  SOMETHING     161 

job  printing  to  do,  it  was  evident  that  Las  Nuevas  did 
not  work  overtime.  Things  were  cleaned  up  for  the 
night  and  ready  for  the  next  day's  work.  It  all  looked 
very  commonplace  and  as  innocent  as  the  paper  it  pro 
duced. 

Starr  went  on  slowly,  examining  the  forms,  the  im 
perfect  first  proofs  of  circulars  and  placards  that  had 
been  placed  on  hook  files.  AVISO !  stared  up  at  him 
in  big,  black  type  from  the  top  of  many  small  sheets, 
with  the  following  notices  of  sales,  penalties  attached 
for  violations  of  certain  ordinances,  and  what  not.  But 
there  was  nothing  that  should  not  be  there,  nothing 
that  could  be  construed  as  seditionary  in  any  sense  of 
the  word. 

Still,  some  person  or  persons  connected  with  this 
place  had  found  it  expedient  to  change  four  perfectly 
good  and  quite  expensive  tires  for  four  new  and  per 
fectly  commonplace  ones,  and  the  only  explanation  pos 
sible  was  that  the  distinctive  tread  of  the  expensive  ones 
had  been  observed.  There  must,  Starr  reasoned,  be 
something  else  in  this  place  which  it  would  be  worth  his 
while  to  discover.  He  therefore  went  carefully  up  the 
grimy  stairway  to -the  rooms  above. 

These  were  offices  of  the  comfortless  type  to  be  found 
in  small  towns.  Bare  floors,  stained  with  tobacco  juice 
and  the  dust  of  the  street.  Bare  desks  and  tables,  some 


162       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

of  them  unpainted,  homemade  affairs,  all  of  them  cheap 
and  old.  A  stove  in  the  larger  office,  a  few  wooden- 
seated  armchairs.  Starr  took  in  the  details  with  a 
flick  here  and  there  of  his  flashlight  that  he  kept 
carefully  turned  away  from  the  green-shaded  win 
dows. 

News  items,  used  and  unused,  he  found  impaled  on 
desk  files.  Bills  paid  and  unpaid  he  found  also.  But 
in  the  first  search  he  found  nothing  else,  nothing  that 
might  not  be  found  in  any  third-rate  newspaper  estab 
lishment.  He  stood  in  the  middle  room  —  there  were 
three  in  a  row,  with  an  empty,  loft-like  room  behind  — 
and  considered  where  else  he  could  search. 

He  went  again  to  a  closet  that  had  been  built  in  with 
boards  behind  the  chimney.  At  first  glance  this  held 
nothing  but  decrepit  brooms,  a  battered  spittoon,  and  a 
small  pile  of  greasewood  cut  to  fit  the  heater  in  the 
larger  room;  but  Starr  went  in  and  flashed  his  light 
around  the  wall.  He  found  a  door  at  the  farther  end, 
and  he  knew  it  for  a  door  only  when  he  passed  his  hands 
over  the  wall  and  felt  it  yield.  He  pushed  it  open  and 
went  into  another  room  evidently  built  across  one  end 
of  the  loft,  a  room  cunningly  concealed  and  therefore  a 
room  likely  to  hold  secrets. 

He  hitched  his  gun  forward  a  little,  pushed  the  door 
shut  behind  him,  and  began  to  search  that  room.  Here, 


STARR  FINDS  SOMETHING     163 

as  in  the  outer  offices,  the  first  superficial  examination 
revealed  nothing  out  of  the  way.  But  Starr  did  not  go 
at  things  superficially.  First  the  desk  came  under  close 
scrutiny.  There  were  no  letters;  they  were  too  cau 
tious  for  that,  evidently.  He  looked  in  the  little  stove 
that  stood  near  the  wall  where  the  chimney  went  up  in 
the  closet,  and  saw  that  the  ashes  consisted  mostly  of 
charred  paper.  But  the  last  ones  deposited  therein  had 
not  yet  heen  lighted,  or,  more  exactly,  they  had  been 
lighted  hastily  and  had  not  burned  except  around  the 
edges.  He  lifted  out  the  one  on  top  and  the  one  be 
neath  it.  They  were  two  sheets  of  copy  paper  scribbled 
closely  in  pencil.  The  first  was  entitled,  with  heavy 
underscoring  that  signified  capitals,  "  Souls  in  Bond 
age."  This  sounded  interesting,  and  Starr  put  the  pa 
pers  in  his  pocket.  The  others  were  envelopes  addressed 
to  Las  Nuevas;  there  was  no  more  than  a  handful  of 
papers  in  all. 

In  a  drawer  of  the  desk,  which  he  opened  with  a 
skeleton  key,  he  found  many  small  leaflets  printed  in 
Mexican.  Since  they  were  headed  ALMAS  DE  CAU- 
TIVERO,  he  took  one  and  hoped  that  it  would  not  be 
missed.  There  were  other  piles  of  leaflets  in  other 
drawers,  and  he  helped  himself  to  a  sample  of  each, 
and  relocked  the  drawers  carefully.  But  search  as  he 
might,  he  could  find  nothing  that  identified  any  indi- 


164       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

vidual,  or  even  pointed  to  any  individual  as  being  con 
cerned  in  this  propaganda  work;  nor  could  he  find  any 
mention  of  the  Mexican  Alliance. 

He  went  out  finally,  let  the  door  swing  behind  him 
as  it  seemed  accustomed  to  do,  climbed  through  a  win 
dow  to  the  veranda  that  bordered  all  these  rooms  like 
a  jutting  eyebrow,  and  slid  down  a  corner  post  to  the 
street.  It  was  close  to  dawn,  and  Starr  had  no  wish 
to  be  found  near  the  place;  indeed,  he  had  no  wish  to 
be  found  away  from  his  cabin  if  any  one  came  there 
with  the  breaking  of  day  to  watch  him. 

As  he  had  left  the  cabin,  so  he  returned  to  it.  He 
went  back  to  bed  and  lay  there  until  sunrise,  piecing 
together  the  scraps  of  information  he  had  gleaned.  So 
far,  he  felt  that  he  was  ahead  of  the  game ;  that  he  had 
learned  more  about  the  Alliance  than  the  Alliance  had 
learned  about  him. 

As  soon  as  the  light  was  strong  enough  for  him  to 
read  without  a  lamp,  he  took  from  his  pocket  the  papers 
he  had  gleaned  from  the  stove,  spread  out  the  first  and 
began  to  decipher  the  handwriting.  And  this  is  what 
he  finally  made  out : 

"  Souls  in  Bondage : 

The  plundering  plutocrats  who  suck  the  very  life 
blood  of  your  mother  country  under  the  guise  of  the  de 
velopment  of  her  resources,  are  working  in  harmony 
with  the  rich  brigands  north  of  the  border  to  plunder 


STARR  FINDS  SOMETHING     165 

you  further,  and  to  despoil  the  fair  land  you  have 
helped  to  win  from  the  wilderness. 

Shall  strong  men  be  content  in  their  slavery  to  the 
greed  of  others?  Rise  up  and  help  us  show  the 
plunderers  that  we  are  men,  not  slaves.  Let  this  shame 
less  persecution  of  your  mother  country  cease! 

American  bandits  would  subjugate  and  annex  the 
richest  portion  of  Mexico.  Why  should  not  Mexico 
therefore  reclaim  her  own?  Why  not  turn  the  tables 
and  annex  a  part  of  the  vast  territory  stolen  from  her 
by  the  octopus  arms  of  our  capitalist  class  ? 

We  are  a  proud  people  and  we  never  forget.  Are 
we  a  cowardly  people  who  would  cringe  and  yield  when 
submission  means  infamy  ? 

Awake !  Strike  one  swift,  successful  blow  for  free 
dom  and  your  bleeding  mother  land. 

Texas,  New  Mexico,  California  and  Arizona  were 
stolen  from  Mexico,  just  as  the  riches  of  her  mines  are 
being  stolen  from  her  to-day.  Sons  of  Mexico,  you  can 
help  her  reclaim  her  own.  Will  you  stand  by  and  see 
her  further  despoiled  ?  Let  your  voices  rise  in  a  mighty 
cry  for  justice!  Let  your  arms  be  strong  to  strike  a 
blow  for  the  right! 

Souls  in  bondage,  wake  up  and  strike  off  your  shac 
kles!  Be  not  slaves  but  free  men! 

Texas,  New  Mexico  and  Arizona  for  Mexico,  to  whom 
they  rightfully  belong !  " 

"  They  sure  do  make  it  strong  enough/'  Starr  com 
mented,  feeling  for  a  match  with  which  to  relight  his 
cigarette  that  had  gone  out.  He  laid  down  the  written 
pages  and  took  up  the  leaflet  entitled,  "ALMAS  DE 
CAUTIVERO."  The  text  that  followed  was  like  the 


166       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

heading,  simply  a  translation  into  Spanish  of  the  ex 
hortation  he  had  just  read  in  English.  But  he  read  it 
through  and  noted  the  places  where  the  Spanish  version 
was  even  more  inflammatory  than  the  English  —  which, 
in  Starr's  opinion,  was  going  some.  The  other  pam 
phlets  were  much  the  same,  citing  well-known  instances 
of  the  revolution  across  the  border  which  seemed  to 
prove  conclusively  that  justice  was  no  more  than  a  jest, 
and  that  the  proletariat  of  Mexico  was  getting  the  worst 
of  the  bargain,  no  matter  who  happened  to  be  in  power. 
Starr  frowned  thoughtfully  over  the  reading.  To 
him  the  thing  was  treason,  and  it  was  his  business  to 
help  stamp  it  out.  Eor  the  powers  that  be  cannot  af 
ford  to  tolerate  the  planting  of  such  seeds  of  dissatis 
faction  amongst  the  untrained  minds  of  the  masses. 
But,  and  Starr  admitted  it  to  himself  with  his  mouth 
pulled  down  at  the  corners,  the  worst  of  it  was  that 
under  the  bombast,  under  the  vituperative  utterances, 
the  catch  phrases  of  radicalism,  there  remained  the 
grains  of  truth.  Starr  knew  that  the  masses  of  Mexico 
were  suffering,  broken  under  the  tramplings  of  revolu 
tion  and  counter-revolution  that  swept  back  and  forth 
from  gulf  to  gulf.  Still,  it  was  not  his  business  to 
sift  out  the  plump  grains  of  truth  and  justice,  but  to 
keep  the  chaff  from  lighting  and  spreading  a  wildfire 
of  sedition  through  three  States. 


STARR  FINDS  SOMETHING     167 

" '  Souls  in  bondage '  is  right,"  he  said,  setting  his 
feet  to  the  floor  and  reaching  for  his  boots.  "  In  bond 
age  to  their  own  helplessness,  and  helpless  because 
they're  so  damned  ignorant.  But,"  he  added  grimly 
while  he  stamped  his  right  foot  into  its  boot,  "  they 
ain't  going  at  it  the  right  way.  They're  tryin'  to  tear 
down,  when  they  ain't  ready  to  build  anything  on  the 
wreck.  They're  right  about  the  wrong;  but  they're 
wrong  as  the  devil  about  the  way  to  mend  it.  Them 
pamphlets  will  sure  raise  hell  amongst  the  Mexicans, 
if  the  thing  ain't  stopped  pronto." 

He  dressed  for  riding,  and  went  out  and  fed  Eabbit 
before  he  went  thoughtfully  up  to  the  hotel  for  his 
breakfast. 


CHAPTEE  THIETEE1ST 

HELEN"    MAY   SIGHS   FOB   ROMANCE 

HELEN  MAY  was  toiling  over  the  ridgy  upland 
which  in  New  Mexico  is  called  a  mesa,  when 
it  is  not  a  desert  —  and  sometimes  when  it  is  one  — 
taking  her  turn  with  the  goats  while  Vic  nursed  a 
strained  ankle  and  a  grouch  under  the  mesquite  tree  by 
the  house.  With  Pat  to  help,  the  herding  resolved  it 
self  into  the  exercise  of  human  intelligence  over  the 
dog's  skill.  Pat,  for  instance,  would  not  of  his  own 
accord  choose  the  best  grazing  for  his  band,  but  he  could 
drive  them  to  good  grazing  once  it  was  chosen  for  him. 
So,  theoretically,  Helen  May  was  exercising  her  human 
intelligence;  actually  she  was  exercising  her  muscles 
mostly.  And  having  an  abundance  of  brain  energy 
that  refused  to  lie  dormant,  she  had  plenty  of  time 
to  think  her  own  thoughts  while  Pat  carried  out  her 
occasional  orders. 

For  one  thing,  Helen  May  was  undergoing  the  tran 
sition  from  a  mild  satisfaction  with  her  education  and 
mentality,  to  a  shamed  consciousness  of  an  appalling 
ignorance  and  mental  crudity.  Holman  Sommers  was 


HELEN  SIGHS  FOR  ROMANCE    169 

unwittingly  the  cause  of  that.  There  was  nothing  pa 
tronizing  or  condescending  in  the  attitude  of  Holman 
Sommers,  even  if  he  did  run  to  long  words  and  scien 
tifically  accurate  descriptions  of  the  smallest  subjects. 
It  was  the  work  he  placed  before  her  that  held  Helen 
May  abashed  before  his  vast  knowledge.  She  could  not 
understand  half  of  what  she  deciphered  and  typed  for 
him,  and  because  she  could  not  understand  she  realized 
the  depth  of  her  benightment. 

She  was  awed  by  the  breadth  and  the  scope  which 
she  sensed  more  or  less  vaguely  in  The  Evolution  of 
Sociology.  Holman  Sommers  quoted  freely,  and  dis 
cussed  boldly  and  frankly,  such  abstruse  authors  as 
Descartes,  Spinoza,  Schopenhauer,  Comte,  Gumplo- 
wicz,  some  of  them  names  she  had  never  heard  of  and 
could  not  even  spell  without  following  her  copy  letter 
by  letter.  Holman  Sommers  seemed  to  have  read  all 
of  them  and  to  have  weighed  all  of  them  and  to  be  able 
to  quote  all  of  them  offhand ;  whereas  Schopenhauer  was 
the  only  name  in  the  lot  that  sounded  in  the  least  fa 
miliar  to  Helen  May,  and  she  had  a  guilty  feeling  that 
she  had  always  connected  the  name  with  music  instead 
of  the  sort  of  things  Holman  Sommers  quoted  him  as 
having  said  or  written,  she  could  not  make  out  which. 

Helen  May,  therefore,  was  suffering  from  mental 
growing  pains.  She  struggled  with  new  ideas  which 


170       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

she  had  swallowed  whole,  without  any  previous  elemen 
tary  knowledge  of  the  subject.  Her  brain  was  hungry, 
her  life  was  stagnant,  and  she  seized  upon  these  socio 
logical  problems  which  llolman  Sommers  had  placed 
before  her,  and  worried  over  them,  and  wondered  where 
llolman  Sommers  had  learned  so  much  about  things  she 
had  never  heard  of.  Save  his  vocabulary,  which 
wearied  her,  he  was  the  simplest,  the  kindest  of  men, 
though  not  kind  as  her  Man  of  the  Desert  was  kind. 

Just  here  in  her  thoughts  llolman  Sommers  faded, 
and  Starr's  lean,  whimsical  face  came  out  sharply  de 
fined  before  her  mental  vision.  Starr  certainly  was 
different!  Ordinary,  and  not  educated  much  beyond 
the  three  Es,  she  suspected.  Just  a  desert  man  with  a 
nice  voice  and  a  gift  for  provocative  little  silences.  Two 
men  could  not  well  be  farther  apart  in  personality,  she 
thought,  and  she  amused  herself  by  comparing  them. 

For  instance,  take  the  case  of  Pat.  Sommers  had 
told  her  just  why  and  just  how  desperately  she  needed 
a  dog  for  the  goats,  and  had  urged  her  by  all  means  to 
get  one  at  the  first  opportunity.  Starr  had  not  said 
anything  about  it;  he  had  simply  brought  the  dog. 
Helen  May  appreciated  the  different  quality  of  the 
kindness  that  does  things. 

Privately,  she  suspected  that  Starr  had  stolen  that 
dog,  he  had  seemed  so  embarrassed  while  he  explained 


HELEN  SIGHS  FOR  ROMANCE    171 

how  he  came  by  Pat ;  especially,  she  remembered,  when 
she  had  urged  him  to  take  the  dog  back.  She  would 
not,  of  course,  dare  hint  it  even  to  Vic;  and  theoretic 
ally  she  was  of  course  shocked  at  the  possibility.  But, 
oh,  she  was  human!  That  a  nice  man  should  swipe  a 
dog  for  her  secretly  touched  a  little,  responsive  tender 
ness  in  Helen  May.  (She  used  the  word  "  swipe," 
which  somehow  made  the  suspected  deed  sound  less  a 
crime  and  more  an  amusing  peccadillo  than  the  word 
"  steal "  would  have  done.  Have  you  ever  noticed  how 
adroitly  we  tone  down  or  magnify  certain  misdeeds 
simply  by  using  slang  or  dictionary  words  as  the  case 
may  be?) 

Oh,  she  saw  it  quite  plainly,  as  she  trudged  over  to 
the  shady  side  of  a  rock  ridge  and  sat  down  where  she 
could  keep  an  eye  on  Pat  and  the  goats.  She  told  her 
self  that  she  would  ask  her  Man  of  the  Desert,  the  next 
time  he  happened  along,  whether  he  had  found  out  who 
the  dog  belonged  to.  If  he  acted  confused  and  dodged 
the  issue,  then  she  would  know  for  sure.  Just  what 
she  would  do  when  she  knew  for  sure,  Helen  May  had 
not  decided. 

The  goats  were  browsing  docilely  upon  the  slope,  eat 
ing  stuff  which  only  a  goat  would  attempt  to  eat. 
Helen  May  was  not  afraid  of  Billy  since  Pat  had  taken 
charge.  Pat  had  a  way  of  keeping  Billy  cowed  and  as 


172       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

harmless  as  the  nannies  themselves.  Just  now  Pat  was 
standing  at  a  little  distance  with  his  tongue  slavering 
down  over  his  white  teeth,  gazing  over  the  band  as  a 
general  looks  at  his  army  drawn  up  in  review. 

He  turned  his  head  and  glanced  at  Helen  May  in 
quiringly,  then  trotted  over  to  where  she  sat  in  the 
shade.  His  tongue  still  drooped  quiveringly  over  his 
lower  jaw,  and  now  and  then  he  drew  it  back  and  licked 
his  lips  as  though  they  were  dry.  Helen  May  found  a 
rock  that  was  hollowed  like  a  crude  saucer,  and  poured 
water  into  the  hollow  from  her  canteen.  Pat  lapped  it 
up  thirstily,  gave  his  stubby  tail  a  wag  of  gratitude, 
lay  down  with  his  front  paws  on  the  edge  of  her  skirt 
with  his  head  dropped  down  upon  them,  and  took  a  nap 
—  with  one  eye  opening  now  and  then  to  see  that  the 
goats  were  all  right,  and  with  his  ears  lifting  to  catch 
the  meaning  of  every  stray  bleat  from  a  garrulous 
nanny. 

Helen  May  had  changed  a  good  deal  in  the  past  two 
or  three  weeks.  Now  when  she  stared  away  and  away 
over  the  desert  and  barren  slope  and  ridges  and  moun 
tain,  she  did  not  feel  that  she  hated  them.  Instead,  she 
saw  that  the  yellow  of  the  desert,  the  brown  of  the 
slopes,  and  the  black  of  the  distant  granite  ledges  bas- 
seting  from  bleak  hills  were  more  beautiful  than  the 
tidy  little  plots  of  tilled  ground  she  used  to  think  so 


HELEN  SIGHS  FOR  ROMANCE     173 

lovely.  There  was  something  hypnotic  in  these  bald 
distances.  She  could  not  read,  when  she  was  out  like 
this;  she  could  only  look  and  think  and  dream. 

She  wished  that  she  might  ride  out  over  it  sometime, 
away  over  to  the  mountains,  perhaps,  as  far  as  she  could 
see.  She  fell  to  dreaming  of  the  old  days  when  this  was 
Spanish  territory,  and  the  king  gave  royal  grants  of 
land  to  his  favorites :  for  instance,  all  the  country  lying 
between  two  mountain  ranges,  to  where  a  river  cut 
across  and  formed  a  natural  boundary.  Holman  Som- 
mers  had  told  her  about  the  old  Spanish  grants,  and 
how  many  of  the  vast  estates  of  Mexican  "  cattle  kings  " 
and  "  sheep  kings  "  were  still  preserved  almost  intact, 
just  as  they  had  been  when  this  was  a  part  of  Mexico. 

She  wished  that  she  might  have  lived  here  then,  when 
the  dons  held  sway  and  when  senoritas  were  all  beau 
tiful  and  when  senoras  were  every  one  of  them 
imposing  in  many  jewels  and  in  rich  mantillas,  and 
when  vaqueros  wore  red  sashes  and  beautiful  se- 
rapes  and  big,  gold-laced  sombreros,  and  rode  prancing 
steeds  that  curveted  away  from  jingling,  silver-rowelled 
spurs.  Helen  May,  you  must  remember,  knew  her 
moving-picture  romance.  She  could  easily  vision 
these  things  exactly  as  they  had  been  presented  to  her 
on  the  screen.  That  is  why  she  peopled  this  empty 
land  so  gorgeously. 


174       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

It  was  different  now,  of  course.  All  the  Mexicans 
she  had  seen  were  like  the  Mexicans  around  the  old 
Plaza  in  Los  Angeles.  All  the  senoritas  she  had  met 
—  they  had  not  been  many  —  powdered  and  painted 
abominably  to  the  point  of  their  jaws  and  left  their 
necks  dirty.  And  their  petticoats  were  draggled  and 
their  hats  looked  as  though  they  had  been  trimmed  from 
the  ten-cent  counter  of  a  cheap  store.  All  the  seiioras 
were  smoky  looking  with  snakish  eyes,  and  the  dresses 
under  their  heavy-fringed  black  mantillas  were  more 
frowsy  than  tho^e  of  their  daughters.  They  certainly 
were  not  imposing;  and  if  they  wore  jewelry  at  all  it 
looked  brassy  and  cheap. 

There  was  no  romance,  nothing  like  adventure  here 
nowadays,  said  Helen  May  to  herself,  while  she  watched 
the  little  geysers  of  dust  go  dancing  like  whirling  der 
vishes  across  the  sand.  A  person  lived  on  canned  stuff 
and  kept  goats  and  was  abjectly  pleased  to  see  any  kind 
of  human  being.  There  certainly  was  no  romance  left 
in  the  country,  though  it  had  seemed  almost  as  though 
there  might  be,  when  her  Man  of  the  Desert  sang  and 
all  the  little  night-sounds  hushed  to  listen,  and  the 
moon-trail  across  the  sand  of  the  desert  lay  like  a  rib 
bon  of  silver.  It  had  seemed  then  as  though  there 
might  be  romance  yet  alive  in  the  wide  spaces. 

So  she  had  swung  back  again  to  Starr,  just  as  she  was 


HELEN  SIGHS  FOR  ROMANCE     175 

always  doing  lately.  She  began  to  wonder  when  he 
would  come  again,  and  what  he  would  have  to  say 
next  time,  and  whether  he  had  really  annexed  some 
poor  sheep  man's  perfectly  good  dog,  just  because  he 
knew  she  needed  one.  It  would  never  do  to  let  on  that 
she  guessed;  but  all  the  same,  it  was  mighty  nice  of 
him  to  think  of  her,  even  if  he  did  go  about  it  in  a 
queer  way.  And  when  Pat,  who  had  seemed  to  be 
asleep,  lifted  his  head  and  looked  up  into  her  eyes 
adoringly,  Helen  May  laid  her  hand  upon  his  smooth 
skull  and  smiled  oddly. 

No  more  romance,  said  Helen  May  —  and  here  was 
Starr,  a  man  of  mystery,  a  man  feared  and  distrusted 
by  the  sons  of  those  passionate  dons  of  whom  she 
dreamed !  Here  was  Starr,  Secret  Service  man  (there 
is  ever  a  glamor  in  the  very  name  of  it),  the  very  essence 
and  forefront  of  such  romance  and  such  adventure  as 
she  had  gasped  over,  when  she  had  seen  it  pictured  on 
the  screen !  She  was  living  right  in  the  middle  of  in 
trigue  that  was  stirring  the  rulers  of  two  nations;  she 
was  coming  close  to  real  adventure,  and  there  she  sat, 
with  Pat  lying  on  the  hem  of  her  skirt,  and  mourned 
that  she  was  fifty  or  a  hundred  years  too  late  for  even 
a  glimpse  at  romance!  And  fretted  because  she  was 
helping  Pat  herd  goats,  and  because  life  was  dull  and 
commonplace. 


176       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

"Honestly,"  she  told  Pat,  "  I've  got  to  the  point 
where  I  catch  myself  looking  forward  to  the  chance 
visits  of  a  wandering  cowboy  who  is  perfectly  common 
place.  Why,  he'd  be  absolutely  lost  on  the  screen ;  you 
wouldn't  know  he  was  in  the  picture  unless  his  horse 
bucked  or  fell  down  or  something!  And  I  don't  sup 
pose  he  ever  has  a  thought  beyond  his  work  and  his  little 
five-cent  celebrations  in  San  Bbnito,  maybe.  Most 
likely  he  flirts  with  those  grimy-necked  Mexican  girls, 
too.  You  can't  tell  — 

"  And  think  of  me  being  so  hard  up  for  excitement 
that  I've  got  to  play  he's  some  mysterious  creature  of 
the  desert!  Honest  to  goodness,  Pat,  it's  got  so  bad 
that  the  mere  sight  of  a  real,  live  man  is  thrilling. 
When  Holman  Sommers  comes  and  lifts  that  old 
Panama  like  a  crown  prince,  and  smiles  at  me  and  talks 
about  all  the  different  periods  of  the  human  race,  and 
gems  and  tribal  laws  and  all  that  highbrow  dope,  I  just 
sit  and  drink  it  in  and  wish  he'd  keep  on  for  hours ! 
Can  you  beat  that  ?  And  if  by  any  chance  a  common, 
ordinary  specimen  of  desert  man  should  ride  by,  1 
might  be  desperate  enough  — " 

Her  gaze,  wandering  always  out  over  the  tremendous 
sweep  of  plateau  which  from  that  point  looked  illimit 
able  as  the  ocean,  settled  upon  a  whirlwind  that  dis 
played  method  and  a  slow  sedateness  not  at  all  in  keep- 


HELEN  SIGHS  FOR  ROMANCE     177 

ing  with  the  erratic  gyrations  of  those  gone  before. 
Watching  it  wistfully  with  a  half-formed  hope  that  it 
might  not  he  just  a  dry-weather  whirlwind,  her  droning 
voice  trailed  off  into  silence.  A  faint  beating  in  her 
throat  betrayed  what  it  was  she  half  hoped.  She  was  so 
desperately  lonesome ! 

Pat  tilted  his  head  and  looked  up  at  her  and  licked 
her  hand  until  she  drew  it  away  impatiently. 

"  Good  gracious,  Pat !  Do  you  want  to  plaster  me 
with  germs  ?  "  she  reproved.  And  Pat  dropped  his 
head  down  upon  his  paws  and  eyed  her  furtively  from 
under  his  brown  lids,  waiting  for  her  to  repent  her 
harshness  and  smooth  his  head  caressingly,  as  was  her 
wont. 

But  Helen  May  was  watching  that  slow-moving  col 
umn  of  dust,  just  as  she  had  watched  the  cloud  which 
had  heralded  the  coming  into  her  life  of  Holman  Som- 
mers.  It  might  be  —  but  it  couldn't,  for  this  was  away 
off  the  road.  No  one  would  be  cutting  straight  across 
that  hummocky  flat,  unless  — 

From  the  desert  I  come  to  thee, 
On  my  Arab  shod  with  fire  — 

"  Oh,  I'm  getting  absolutely  mushy !  "  she  muttered 
angrily.  "  If  I've  reached  the  point  where  I  can't  see 
a  spot  of  dust  without  getting  heart-failure  over  it,  why 


178       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

it's  time  I  was  shut  up  somewhere.  What  are  you 
lolling  around  me  for,  Pat?  Go  on  and  tend  to  your 
goats,  why  don't  you  ?  And  do  get  off  my  skirt !  " 

Pat  sprang  up  as  though  she  had  struck  him ;  gave  her 
an  injured  glance  that  was  perfectly  maddening  to 
Helen  May,  whose  conscience  was  sufficient  punishment, 
and  went  slinking  off  down  the  slope.  Half-way  to  the 
band  he  stopped  and  sat  down  on  his  haunches  in  the 
hot  sun,  as  dejected  a  dog  as  ever  was  made  to  suffer 
because  his  mistress  was  displeased  with  herself. 

Helen  May  sat  there  scowling  out  across  the  wide 
spaces,  while  romance  and  adventure,  and  something 
more,  rode  steadily  nearer,  heralded  by  the  small  gray 
cloud.  When  she  was  sure  that  a  horseman  was  com 
ing,  she  perversely  removed  herself  to  another  spot 
where  she  would  not  be  seen.  And  there  she  sat,  out 
of  sight  from  below  and  thus  fancying  herself  undis 
covered,  refusing  so  much  as  a  sly  glance  around  her 
granite  shield. 

For  if  there  was  anything  which  Helen  May  hated 
more  than  another  it  was  the  possibility  of  being  thought 
cheaply  sentimental,  mushy,  as  the  present  generation 
vividly  puts  it.  Also  she  was  trying  to  break  herself 
of  humming  that  old  desert  love-song  all  the  while.  Vic 
was  beginning  to  "  kid  "  her  unmercifully  about  it,  for 
one  thing.  To  think  that  she  should  sing  it  without 


HELEN  SIGHS  FOR  ROMANCE     179 

thinking  a  word  about  it,  just  because  she  happened  to 
see  a  little  dust !  She  would  not  look.  She  would  not ! 

Starr  might  have  passed  her  by  and  gone  on  to  the 
cabin  if  he  had  not,  through  a  pair  of  powerful  binocu 
lars,  been  observing  her  when  she  sent  Pat  off,  and 
when  she  got  up  and  went  over  to  the  other  ledge  and 
sat  down.  Through  the  glasses  he  had  seen  her  feet 
crossed,  toes  up,  just  past  the  nose  of  the  rock,  and  he 
could  see  the  spread  of  her  skirt.  Luckily,  he  could 
not  read  her  mind.  He  therefore  gave  a  yank  at  the 
lead-rope  in  his  hand  and  addressed  a  few  biting  re 
marks  to  a  white-lashed,  blue-eyed  pinto  trailing  re 
luctantly  behind  Rabbit;  and  rode  forward  with  some 
eagerness  toward  the  ridge. 

"  'Sleep  ?  "  he  greeted  cheerfully,  when  he  had  forced 
the  two  horses  to  scramble  up  to  the  shade  of  the  ledge, 
and  had  received  no  attention  whatever  from  the  person 
just  beyond.  The  tan  boots  were  still  crossed,  and  not 
so  much  as  a  toe  of  them  moved  to  show  that  the  owner 
heard  him.  Starr  knew  that  he  had  made  noise  enough, 
so  far  as  that  went. 

"  Why,  no,  I'm  not  asleep.  What  is  it  ? "  came 
crisply,  after  a  perceptible  pause. 

"  It  ain't  anything  at  all,"  Starr  retorted,  and  swung 
Rabbit  into  the  shade  which  Helen  May  had  left.  He 
dismounted,  sat  himself  down  with  his  back  against  a 


180       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

rock,  and  proceeded  to  roll  a  cigarette.  By  no  means 
would  he  intrude  upon  the  privacy  of  a  lady,  though 
the  quiet,  crossed  feet  and  the  placid  folds  of  the  khaki 
skirt  told  him  that  she  was  sitting  there  quietly  —  pout- 
ing  about  something,  most  likely,  he  diagnosed  her  si 
lence  shrewdly.  Well,  it  was  early,  and  so  long  as  he 
reached  a  certain  point  by  full  dark,  he  was  not  neglect 
ing  anything.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  he  told  himself 
philosophically,  he  really  wanted  to  kill  half  a  day  in 
a  perfectly  plausible  manner.  There  was  no  hurry,  no 
hurry  at  all. 

Pat  looked  back  at  him  ingratiatingly,  and  Starr 
called.  Pat  came  running  in  long  leaps,  nearly  wag 
ging  himself  in  two  because  some  one  he  liked  was  going 
to  be  nice  to  him.  Starr  petted  him  and  talked  to  him 
and  pulled  his  ears  and  slapped  him  on  the  ribs,  and 
Pat  in  his  joy  persisted  in  trying  to  lick  Starr's 
cheek. 

"  Quit  it !  Lay  down  and  be  a  doormat,  then. 
YouVe  got  welcome  wrote  all  over  you.  And  much  as 
I  like  welcome,  I  hate  to  be  licked." 

Pat  lay  down,  and  Starr  eyed  the  tan  boot  toes. 
They  moved  impatiently,  but  they  did  not  uncross. 
Starr  smiled  to  himself  and  proceeded  to  carry  on  a 
one-sided  conversation  with  Pat,  and  to  smoke  his  ciga 
rette. 


HELEN  SIGHS  FOR  ROMANCE     181 

"  Sick,  over  there  ?  "  he  inquired  casually  after  per 
haps  five  minutes;  either  of  them  would  have  sworn 
it  ten  or  fifteen. 

"  Why,  no,"  chirped  the  crisp  voice.     "  Why  ?  " 

"  Seemed  polite  to  ask,  is  all,"  Starr  confessed.  "  I 
didn't  think  you  was."  He  finished  his  smoke  in  the 
silence  that  followed.  Then,  because  he  himself  owned 
a  perverse  streak,  he  took  his  binoculars  from  their  case 
and  began  to  study  the  low-lying  ridge  in  the  distance, 
in  a  pocket  of  which  nestled  the  Medina  ranch  buildings. 
He  was  glad  this  ridge  commanded  all  but  the  "  draws  " 
and  hollows  lying  transversely  between  here  and  Me 
dina's  place.  It  was  Medina  whom  he  had  been  ad 
vised  by  his  chief  to  watch  particularly,  when  Starr  had 
found  a  means  of  laying  his  clues  before  that  astute 
gentleman.  If  he  could  sit  within  ten  feet  of  Helen 
May  while  he  kept  an  eye  on  that  country  over  there, 
all  the  better. 

He  saw  a  horseman  ride  up  out  of  a  hollow  and  dis 
appear  almost  immediately  into  another.  The  man 
seemed  to  be  coming  over  in  this  direction,  though  Starr 
could  not  be  sure.  He  watched  for  a  reappearance  of 
the  rider  on  high  ground,  but  he  saw  no  more  of  the 
fellow.  So  after  a  little  he  took  down  the  glasses  to 
scan  the  country  as  a  whole. 

It  was  then  that  he  glanced  toward  the  other  rock 


182       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

and  saw  that  the  tan  boots  had  moved  out  of  sight.  He 
believed  that  he  would  have  heard  her  if  she  moved 
away,  and  so  he  kept  his  eyes  turned  upon  the  corner 
of  the  rock  where  her  feet  had  shown  a  few  minutes 
before. 


CHAPTER  FOURTEEN 

A   SHOT    FBOM    THE    PINNACLE 

44  \\  THY —  did  some  one  come  with  you,  Mr. 
V  V  Starr  ?  I  thought  you  were  alone." 

Starr  turned  his  head  and  saw  Helen  May  standing 
quite  close,  on  the  other  side  of  him.  She  was  glancing 
inquiringly  from  him  to  the  pinto  pony,  and  she  was 
smiling  the  least  little  bit,  though  her  eyes  had  a  shamed, 
self-conscious  look.  Starr  eyed  her  keenly,  a  bit  re 
proachfully,  and  she  blushed. 

"  I  thought  maybe  you'd  come  around  where  I  was/' 
she  defended  herself  lamely.  "  It  —  seemed  cooler 
there—" 

"  Yes,  I  noticed  it  was  pretty  cool,  from  the  tone  of 
your  voice." 

"  Well  —  oh,  I  was  just  nursing  a  grouch,  and  I 
couldn't  stop  all  at  once,"  Helen  May  surrendered  sud 
denly,  sitting  down  beside  him  and  crossing  her  feet. 
"  I've  read  in  stories  how  sheepherders  go  crazy,  and  I 
know  now  just  why  that  is.  They  see  so  few  people 
that  they  don't  know  how  to  act  when  some  one  does 
come  along.  They  get  so  they  hate  themselves  and 


184        STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

everybody  else.  I  had  just  finished  abusing  poor  old 
Pat  till  he  went  off  and  sulked  too." 

"  I  thought  probably  you  and  Pat  had  just  had  a 
run-in,  the  way  he  acted."  Starr  went  back  to  scanning 
that  part  of  the  mesa  where  he  had  glimpsed  the  rider. 
He  could  not  afford  to  forget  business  in  the  pleasure 
of  talking  aimless,  trivial  things  with  Helen  May. 

"  What  are  you  looking  for  ?  " 

"  Stock/'  said  Starr,  falling  back  on  the  standard 
excuse  of  the  range  man. 

"  And  what's  the  idea  of  two  saddle-horses  and  two 
saddles  and  two  bridles  ?  "  Helen  May's  voice  was  as 
simply  curious  as  a  child's. 

"  The  idea  is  that  you're  going  to  ride  instead  of  walk 
from  now  on.  It's  an  outfit  I  got  from  a  fellow  that 
was  leaving.  He  borrowed  money  from  me  and  left 
his  horse  and  saddle,  for  a  kind  of  security.  I  didn't 
want  it,  but  he  had  to  leave  'em  somewhere.  So  I 
thought  you  might  as  well  keep  the  horse  and  use  it 
till  he  comes  back,  or  something."  Starr  did  very  well 
with  this  explanation;  much  better  than  he  had  done 
in  explaining  Pat.  The  truth  was  that  he  had  bought 
the  horse  for  the  express  purpose  of  giving  it  to  Helen 
May ;  just  as  he  had  bought  the  dog. 

Helen  May  studied  his  face  while  he  studied  the 
distant  plain.  She  thought  he  acted  as  though  he 


A  SHOT  FROM  THE  PINNACLE    185 

didn't  care  much  whether  she  kept  the  horse  or  not,  and 
for  that  reason,  and  because  his  explanation  had 
sounded  like  truth,  she  hesitated  over  refusing  the  of 
fer,  though  she  felt  that  she  ought  to  refuse. 

"  It  ain't  right  for  you  to  be  out  here  afoot,"  said 
Starr,  as  though  he  had  read  her  thoughts.  "  It's  bad 
enough  for  you  to  be  here  at  all.  What  ever  possessed 
you  to  do  such  a  crazy  thing,  anyhow  ?  " 

"  Well,  sometimes  people  can't  choose.  Dad  got  the 
notion  first.  And  then  —  when  he  died  —  Vic  and  I 
just  went  ahead  with  it." 

"  Did  he  know  anything  about  this  country  ?  Did 
he  know  —  what  chances  you'd  be  taking  ?  "  Starr  was 
trying  to  choose  his  words  so  that  they  would  impress 
her  without  alarming  her.  It  angered  him  to  have  to 
worry  over  the  girl's  welfare  and  to  keep  that  worry 
to  himself. 

"  What  chances,  for  gracious  sake  ?  I  never  saw 
such  a  mild,  perfectly  monotonous  life.  Why,  there  are 
more  chances  in  Los  Angeles  every  time  a  person  goes 
down  town.  It's  deadly  dull  here,  and  it's  too  lone 
some  for  words,  and  I  hate  it.  But  as  for  taking 
chances — "  Her  voice  was  frankly  contemptuous  of 
the  idea. 

"  Chances  of  going  broke.     It  takes  experience  — " 

"  Oh,  as  to  that,  it's  partly  a  matter  of  health,"  said 


186       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

Helen  May  lightly.     "  I  have  to  live  where  the  cli 
mate  — " 

"  You  could  live  in  Albuquerque,  or  some  other  live 
town;  close  to  it,  anyway.  You  don't  have  to  stick 
away  down  here,  where — " 

"  I  don't  see  as  it  matters.  So  long  as  it  isn't  Los 
Angeles,  no  place  appeals  to  me.  And  dad  had  bought 
the  improvements  here,  so  — " 

"  I'll  pay  you  for  the  improvements,  if  that's  all," 
Starr  said  shortly. 

Helen  May  laughed.  "  That  sounds  exactly  as 
though  you  want  to  get  me  out  of  the  country,"  she 
challenged. 

Starr  did  not  rise  to  the  bait.  He  took  another  long 
look  for  the  horseman,  saw  not  so  much  as  a  flurry  of 
dust,  and  slid  the  glasses  into  their  case. 

"  I  brought  out  that  carbine  I  was  speaking  about. 
And  the  shells  that  go  with  it.  I'm  kind  of  a  gun  fiend, 
I  guess.  I'm  always  accumulating  a  lot  of  shooting 
irons  I  never  use.  I  run  across  a  six-shooter  and  belt, 
too.  Come  here,  Eabbit !  " 

Eabbit  came,  and  Starr  untied  the  weapons,  smiling 
boyishly.  "  You  may  as  well  be  using  'em ;  they'll 
only  rust,  kicking  around  in  the  shack.  Buckle  this 
around  you.  I  punched  another  hole  or  two,  so  the 
belt  would  come  within  a  mile  or  so  of  fitting.  You 


A  SHOT  FROM  THE  PINNACLE    187 

want  to  wear  that  every  time  you  go  out  on  the  range. 
The  time  you  leave  it  home  is  the  very  time  when  you'll 
see  a  coyote  or  something. 

"  And  if  you  expect  to  get  rich  in  the  goat  business, 
you  never  want  to  pass  up  a  coyote.  There's  a  bounty 
on  ?em,  for  one  thing,  because  they  do  lots  of  damage 
among  sheep  and  goats.  And  for  another,"  he  added 
impressively,  "  the  rabies  that's  been  epidemic  on  the 
Coast  is  spreading.  You've  maybe  read  about  it.  A 
rabid  coyote  would  come  right  at  you,  and  you  know  the 
consequences.  Or  it  would  bite .  Pat,  and  then  Pat 
would  tackle  you." 

"  Oh !  "  Helen  May  had  turned  a  sickly  shade.  Her 
eyes  went  anxiously  over  the  slope  as  though  she  half 
expected  something  of  the  sort  to  happen  then  and 
there. 

"  That's  why,"  said  Starr  solemnly,  looking  down 
into  her  face,  "  I'm  kinda  worried  about  you  ranging 
around  afoot  and  without  a  gun — " 

"  But  nobody  else  has  even  mentioned  — " 

"  Everybody  else  goes  prepared,  and  they're  inclined 
to  take  chances  as  a  matter  of  course.  I  reckon  they 
think  you  know  all  about  rabies  being  in  the  country. 
This  has  always  been  a  scrappy  kinda  place,  remem 
ber,  and  folks  are  used  to  packing  guns  and  using  'em 
when  the  case  demands  it.  You  wear  this  six-gun, 


188       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

lady,  and  keep  your  eyes  open  from  now  on.  I've  got 
another  one  for  Vic ;  an  automatic.  Now  we'll  go  down 
here  in  the  shade  and  practice  shooting.  I  brought 
plenty  of  shells,  and  I  want  to  learn  you  how  to  handle 
a  gun." 

Silently  she  followed  him  down  the  slope  on  the  side 
toward  the  Basin.  He  stopped  beside  the  pinto,  took  it 
by  the  bridle-reins  and,  whipping  out  his  gun,  fired  it 
once  to  test  the  horse.  The  pinto  twitched  its  ears  at 
the  sound  and  looked  at  Starr.  Starr  laughed. 

"I'll  learn  you  to  shoot  from  horseback/'  he  called 
back  to  Helen  May.  "  He's  broke  to  it,  I  can  see  now." 

"  Oh,  I  wonder  if  I  could !  Don't  tell  Vic,  will  you  ? 
I'd  like  to  take  him  by  surprise.  Boys  are  so  conceited 
and  self-sufficient!  You'd  think  Vic  was  my  grand 
father,  the  way  he  lords  it  over  me.  First  of  all,  what 
is  the  right  way  to  get  on  a  horse  ?  I  wish  you'd  teach 
me  about  riding,  too." 

This  sort  of  instruction  grew  absorbing  to  both.  Be 
fore  either  guessed  how  the  time  had  flown,  the  sun 
stood  straight  overhead;  and  Pat,  standing  in  front  of 
her  with  an  expectant  look  in  his  eyes  and  an  occasional 
wag  of  his  stubby  tail,  reminded  Helen  May  that  it  was 
time  for  lunch.  They  had  used  almost  a  full  box  of 
shells,  and  Helen  May  had  succeeded  in  shooting  from 
the  back  of  the  pinto  and  in  hitting  a  certain  small 


A  SHOT  FROM  THE  PINNACLE     180 

hummock  of  pure  sand  twice  in  six  shots.  She  was  tre 
mendously  proud  of  the  feat,  and  she  took  no  pains  to 
conceal  her  pride.  She  wanted  to  start  in  on  another 
box  of  shells,  but  Pat's  eyes  were  so  reproachful,  and 
her  sense  of  hospitality  was  so  urgent  that  she  decided 
to  wait  until  they  had  eaten  the  lunch  she  had  brought 
with  her. 

The  rocks  which  had  cast  a  shadow  were  now  baking 
in  the  glare,  and  the  sand  where  Helen  May  and  Starr 
had  sat  was  radiating  heat  waves.  Starr  took  another 
long  look  down  toward  Medina's  ranch  through  his  field 
glasses,  while  Helen  May  went  to  find  a  comfortable  bit 
of  shade. 

"  If  you'll  come  over  this  way,  Mr.  Starr/'  she  called 
abruptly,  "  I'll  give  you  a  sandwich.  It's  hot  every 
where  to-day,  but  this  is  a  little  better  than  out  in  the 


sun." 


Starr  took  the  glasses  down  from  his  eyes  and  let 
them  dangle  by  their  cord  while  he  walked  over  the  nose 
of  the  ridge  to  where  she  was  waiting  for  him. 

Half-way  there,  a  streak  of  fire  seemed  to  sear  his 
arm  near  his  shoulder.  Starr  knew  the  feeling  well 
enough.  He  staggered  and  went  down  headlong  in  a 
clump  of  greasewood,  and  at  the  same  instant  the  report 
of  a  rifle  came  clearly  from  the  high  pinnacle  at  the 
head  of  Sunlight  Basin. 


190       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

Helen  May  came  running,  her  face  white  with  hor 
ror,  for  she  had  seen  Starr  fall  just  as  the  sound  of  the 
shot  came  to  tell  her  why.  She  did  not  cry  out,  but  she 
rushed  to  where  he  lay  half  concealed  in  the  bushes. 
When  she  came  near  him,  she  stopped  short.  For  Starr 
was  lying  on  his  stomach  with  his  head  up  and  elbows 
in  the  sand,  steadying  the  glasses  to  his  eyes  that  he 
might  search  that  pinnacle. 

"W-what  made  you  fall  down  like  that?"  Helen 
May  cried  exasperatedly.  "I  —  I  thought  you  were 
shot!" 

"  I  am,  to  a  certain  extent,"  Starr  told  her  uncon 
cernedly.  "  Kneel  down  here  beside  me  and  act  scared, 
will  you  ?  And  in  a  minute  I  want  you  to  climb  on  the 
pinto  and  ride  around  behind  them  rocks  and  wait  for 
me.  Take  Eabbit  with  you.  Act  like  you  was  going 
for  help,  or  was  scared  and  running  away  from  a  corpse. 
You  get  me  ?  I'll  crawl  over  there  after  a  little." 

"  W-why  ?  Are  you  hurt  so  you  can't  walk  ? " 
Helen  May  did  not  have  to  act;  she  was  scared  quite 
enough  for  Starr's  purpose. 

"  Oh,  I  could  walk,  but  walking  ain't  healthy  right 
now.  Jump  up  now  and  climb  your  horse  like  you  was 
expecting  to  ride  him  down  to  a  whisper.  Go  on  — 
beat  it.  And  when  you  get  outa  sight  of  the  pinnacle, 
stay  outa  sight.  Run !  " 


A  SHOT  FROM  THE  PINNACLE     191 

There  were  several  questions  which  Helen  May 
wanted  to  ask,  but  she  only  gave  him  a  hasty,  imploring 
glance  which  Starr  did  not  see  at  all,  since  his  eyes  were 
focussed  on  the  pinnacle.  She  ran  to  the  pinto  and 
scared  him  so  that  he  jumped  away  from  her.  Starr 
heard  and  glanced  impatiently  back  at  her.  He  saw 
that  she  had  managed  to  get  the  reins  and  was  mount 
ing  with  all  the  haste  and  all  the  awkwardness  he  could 
possibly  expect  of  her,  and  he  grinned  and  returned  to 
his  scrutiny  of  the  peak. 

Whatever  he  saw  he  kept  to  himself;  but  presently 
he  began  to  wriggle  backward,  keeping  the  greasewood 
clump,  and  afterwards  certain  rocks  and  little  ridges, 
between  himself  and  a  view  of  the  point  he  had  fixed 
upon  as  the  spot  where  the  shooter  had  stood. 

When  he  had  rounded  the  first  rock  ledge  he  got  up 
and  looked  for  Helen  May,  and  found  her  standing  a 
couple  of  rods  off,  watching  him  anxiously.  He  smiled 
reassuringly  at  her  while  he  dusted  his  trousers  with  the 
flat  of  his  hands. 

"  Fine  and  dandy,"  he  said.  "  Whoever  took  a  pot 
shot  at  me  thinks  he  got  me  first  crack.  See?  Now 
listen,  lady.  That  maybe  was  some  herder  out  gunning 
for  coyotes,  and  maybe  he  was  gunning  for  me.  I 
licked  a  herder  that  ranges  over  that  way,  and  he  maybe 
thought  he'd  play  even.  But  anyway,  don't  say  any- 


192       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

thing   about   it  to   anybody,    will   you.     I   kinda  — " 

"  Why  not  ?  If  he  shot  at  you,  he  wanted  to  kill 
you.  And  that's  murder;  he  ought  to  be — " 

"  Now,  you  know  you  said  yourself  that  herders  go 
crazy.  I  don't  want  to  get  the  poor  boob  into  trouble. 
Let's  not  say  anything  about  it.  I've  got  to  go  now; 
I've  stayed  longer  than  I  meant  to,  as  it  is.  Have  Vic 
put  that  halter  that's  on  the  saddle  on  the  pinto,  and  tie 
the  rope  to  it  and  let  it  drag.  He  won't  go  away,  and 
you  can  catch  him  without  any  bother.  If  Vic  don't 
know  how  to  set  the  saddle,  you  take  notice  just  how 
it's  fixed  when  you  take  it  off.  I  meant  to  show  you 
how,  but  I  can't  stop  now.  And  don't  go  anywhere, 
not  even  to  the  mail  box,  without  Pat  or  your  six-gun, 
or  both.  Come  here,  Kabbit,  you  old  scoundrel! 

"  I  wish  I  could  stay,"  he  added,  swinging  up  to  the 
saddle  and  looking  down  at  her  anxiously.  "  Don't  let 
Vic  monkey  with  that  automatic  till  I  come  and  show 
him  how  to  use  it.  I  — " 

"  You  said  you  were  shot,"  said  Helen  May,  staring 
at  him  enigmatically  from  under  her  lashes.  "  Are 
you?" 

"  Not  much ;  burnt  a  streak  on  my  arm,  nothing  to 
bother  about.  Now  remember  and  don't  leave  your 
gun—" 

"  I  don't  believe  it  was  because  you  licked  a  herder. 


A  SHOT  FROM  THE  PINNACLE     193 

What  made  somebody  shoot  at  you  ?  Was  it  —  on  ac 
count  of  Pat  ? " 

" Pat?  No,  I  don't  see  what  the  dog  would  have  to 
do  with  it.  It  was  some  half-baked  herder,  shooting 
maybe  because  he  heard  us  shoot  and  thought  we  was 
using  him  for  a  target.  You  can't,"  Starr  declared 
firmly,  "  tell  what  fool  idea  they'll  get  into  their  heads. 
It  was  our  shooting,  most  likely.  Now  I  must  go. 
Adios,  I'll  see  yuh  before  long." 

"Well,  but  what— " 

Helen  May  found  herself  speaking  to  the  scenery. 
Starr  was  gone  with  Rabbit  at  a  sliding  trot  down  the 
slope  that  kept  the  ridge  between  him  and  the  pinnacle. 
She  stood  staring  after  him  blankly,  her  hat  askew  on 
the  back  of  her  head,  and  her  lips  parted  in  futile  as 
tonishment.  She  did  not  in  the  least  realize  just  what 
Starr's  extreme  caution  had  meant.  She  had  no  in 
kling  of  the  real  gravity  of  the  situation,  for  her  ig 
norance  of  the  lawless  possibilities  of  that  big,  bare 
country  insulated  her  against  understanding. 

What  struck  her  most  forcibly  was  the  cool  manner 
in  which  he  had  ordered  her  to  act  a  part,  and  the  un 
hesitating  manner  in  which  she  had  obeyed  him.  He 
ordered  her  about,  she  thought,  as  though  he  had  a 
right;  and  she  obeyed. as  though  she  recognized  that 
right. 


194       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

She  watched  him  as  long  as  he  was  in  sight,  and  tried 
to  guess  where  he  was  going  and  what  he  meant  to  do, 
and  what  was  his  business  —  what  he  did  for  a  living. 
He  must  be  a  rancher,  since  he  had  said  he  was  looking 
for  stock ;  hut  it  was  queer  he  had  never  told  her  where 
his  ranch  lay,  or  how  far  off  it  was,  or  anything  ahout  it. 

After  a  little  it  occurred  to  her  that  Starr  would 
want  the  man  who  had  shot  at  him  to  think  she  had 
left  that  neighborhood,  so  she  called  to  Pat  and  had  him 
drive  the  goats  around  where  they  could  not  be  seen 
from  the  pinnacle. 

Then  she  sat  down  and  ate  her  sandwiches  thought 
fully,  with  long,  meditative  intervals  between  bites. 
She  regarded  the  pinto  curiously,  wondering  if  Starr 
had  really  taken  him  as  security  for  a  debt,  and  wishing 
that  she  had  asked  him  what  its  name  was.  It  was 
queer,  the  way  he  rode  up  unexpectedly  every  few  days, 
always  bringing  something  he  thought  she  needed,  and 
seeming  to  take  it  for  granted  that  she  would  accept 
everything  he  offered.  It  was  much  queerer  that  she 
did  accept  everything  without  argument  or  hesitation. 
For  that  matter,  everything  that  concerned  Starr  was 
queer,  from  Helen  May's  point  of  view. 


CHAPTER  FIFTEEN 

HELEN"    MAY    UNDERSTANDS 

PAT,  lying  at  her  feet  and  licking  his  lips  con 
tentedly  after  his  bone  and  the  crusts  of  her  sand 
wich,  raised  his  head  suddenly  and  rumbled  a  growl 
somewhere  deep  in  his  chest.  His  upper  lip  lifted  and 
showed  his  teeth  wickedly,  and  the  hair  on  the  back  of 
his  neck  stood  out  in  a  ruff  that  made  him  look  a  dif 
ferent  dog. 

Helen  May  felt  a  cold  shiver  all  up  and  down  her 
spine.  She  had  never  seen  Pat,  nor  any  other  dog 
for  that  matter,  look  like  that.  It  was  much  more 
terrifying  than  that  mysterious  shot  which  had  effected 
Starr  so  strangely.  Pat  was  staring  directly  behind 
her,  and  his  eyes  had  a  greenish  tinge  in  the  iris,  and 
the  white  part  was  all  pink  and  bloodshot.  Helen  May 
thought  he  must  have  rabies  or  something;  or  else 
a  rabid  coyote  was  up  on  the  ridge  behind  her.  She 
wanted  to  scream,  but  she  was  afraid;  she  was  afraid 
to  look  behind  her,  even. 

Pat  got  up  and  stood  digging  his  toe  nails  into  the 
earth  in  the  most  horribly  suggestive  way  imaginable. 


196       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

The  green  light  in  his  eyes  terrified  her.  His  ruff 
hristled  bigger  on  his  neck.  He  looked  ready  to  spring 
at  something.  Helen  May  was  too  scared  to  move  so 
much  as  a  finger.  She  waited,  and  her  heart  began 
beating  so  hard  in  her  throat  that  it  nearly  suffocated 
her.  She  never  once  thought  of  the  six-shooter  which 
Starr  had  given  her.  She  did  not  think  of  anything, 
except  that  a  rabid  coyote  was  right  behind  her,  and  in 
a  minute  Pat  would  jump  at  it,  if  it  did  not  first  jump 
at  her!  And  then  Pat  would  be  bitten,  and  would  go 
mad  and  bite  her  and  Vic,  and  they'd  all  die  horribly 
of  hydrophobia. 

"Ah  —  is  this  a  modern,  dramatic  version  of  Beauty 
and  the  Beast  ?  If  so,  it  is  a  masterpiece  in  depicting 
perfect  repose  on  the  part  of  Beauty,  while  the  Beast 
vivifies  the  protective  instinct  of  the  stronger  toward 
the  weaker.  Speaking  in  the  common  parlance,  if  you 
will  call  off  your  dog,  Miss  Stevenson,  I  might  be  per 
suaded  to  venture  within  hand-shaking  distance."  A 
little  laugh,  that  was  much  more  humorous  than  the 
words,  followed  the  speech. 

Helen  May  felt  as  though  she  were  going  to  faint. 
"  Pat !  "  she  tried  to  say  admonishingly ;  but  her  voice 
was  a  weak  whisper  that  did  not  carry  ten  feet.  She 
pulled  herself  together  and  tried  again.  "Pat,  lie 
down!" 


HELEN  MAY  UNDERSTANDS     197 

Pat  turned  his  head  a  trifle  and  sent  her  a  tolerant 
glance,  but  the  hair  did  not  lie  down  on  his  neck,  and 
the  growl  did  not  cease  to  rumble  in  his  throat. 

"  Pat !  "  Helen  May  began  to  recover  a  little  from 
the  reaction.  "  Come  here  to  me !  I  —  don't  think 
he'll  bite  you,  Mr.  Sommers.  It's  —  it's  only  Mexicans 
that  he's  supposed  to  hate.  I  —  I  didn't  know  it  was 
you." 

Holman  Sommers,  being  careful  to  keep  a  safe  dis 
tance  between  himself  and  Pat,  came  around  to  where 
he  could  see  her  face.  "  As  a  matter  of  fact,"  he  be 
gan,  "  it's  really  my  sister  who  came  to  visit  you.  Your 
brother  informed  us  that  you  were  out  here,  and  I  came 
to  tell  you.  Why,  did  I  frighten  you  so  badly,  Miss 
Stevenson?  Your  face  is  absolutely  colorless.  What 
did  I  do  to  so  terrify  you  ?  I  surely  never  intended  — ': 
His  eyes  were  remorseful  as  he  stood  and  looked  at  her. 

"  It  was  just  the  way  Pat  acted.  I  —  Pd  been  hear 
ing  about  rabid  coyotes,  and  I  thought  one  was  behind 
me,  Pat  acted  so  queer.  Lie  down,  Pat !  " 

Holman  Sommers  spoke  to  the  dog  ingratiatingly, 
but  Pat  did  not  exhibit  any  tail-wagging  desire  for 
friendly  acquaintance.  He  slunk  over  to  Helen  May 
and  flattened  himself  on  his  belly  with  his  nose  on  his 
paws,  and  his  eyes,  that  still  showed  greenish  lights  and 
bloodshot  whites,  fixed  on  the  man. 


198       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

"  It  may  be,"  said  Sommers  judgmatically,  "  that  he 
has  been  taught  to  resent  strangers  coming  in  close 
proximity  to  the  animals  he  has  in  charge.  A  great 
many  dogs  are  so  trained,  and  are  therefore  in  no  wise 
to  blame  for  exhibiting  a  certain  degree  of  ferocity. 
The  canine  mind  is  wholly  lacking  in  the  power  of  de 
duction,  its  intelligence  consisting  rather  of  a  highly 
developed  instinctive  faculty  for  retaining  impressions 
which  invariably  express  themselves  in  some  concrete 
form  such  as  hate,  fear,  joy,  affection  and  like  primitive 
emotions.  Pat,  for  instance,  has  been  taught  to  regard 
strangers  as  interlopers.  He  therefore  resents  the  pres 
ence  of  all  strangers,  and  has  no  mental  faculty  for  dis 
tinguishing  between  strangers,  as  such,  and  actual  in 
truders  whose  presence  is  essentially  undesirable." 

Helen  May  gave  a  little,  half-hysterical  laugh,  and 
Holman  Sommers  looked  at  her  keenly,  as  a  doctor 
sometimes  looks  at  a  patient. 

"  I  am  intensely  sorry  that  my  coming  frightened 
you,"  he  said  gently.  Then  he  laughed.  "  I  am  also 
deeply  humiliated  at  the  idea  of  being  mistaken,  in  the 
broad  light  of  midday,  for  a  rabid  coyote.  May  I  ask 
just  wherein  lies  the  resemblance  ?  " 

Helen  May  looked  at  him,  saw  the  dancing  light  in 
his  eyes  and  a  mirthful  quirk  of  his  lips,  and  blushed 
while  she  smiled. 


HELEN  MAY  UNDERSTANDS     199 

"  It's  just  that  I  happened  to  be  thinking  about 
them,"  she  said,  instinctively  belittling  her  fear. 
"  And  then  I  never  saw  Pat  act  the  way  he's  acting 


now." 


Holman  Sommers  regarded  the  dog  with  the  same 
keen,  studying  look  he  had  given  Helen  May.  Pat  did 
not  take  it  as  calmly,  however,  as  Helen  May  had  done. 
Pat  lifted  his  upper  lip  again  and  snarled  with  an 
extremely  concrete  depiction  of  the  primitive  emotion, 
hate. 

"  There  are  such  things  as  rabid  coyotes,  aren't  there  ? 
Just  —  do  you  know  how  they  act,  and  how  a  person 
could  tell  when  something  has  caught  the  disease  from 
them?" 

"  I  think  I  may  safely  assert  that  there  undoubtedly 
are  rabid  coyotes  in  the  country.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
and  speaking  relatively,  they  have  been,  and  probably 
still  are,  somewhat  of  a  menace  to  stock  running  abroad 
without  a  herder  amply  provided  with  the  means  of  pro 
tecting  his  charge.  At  the  same  time  I  may  point  with 
pardonable  pride  to  the  concerted  action  of  both  State 
and  Stock  Association  to  rid  the  country  of  these  pests. 
So  far  we  feel  highly  gratified  at  the  success  which  has 
attended  our  efforts.  I  gravely  doubt  whether  you 
would  now  find,  in  this  whole  county,  a  single  case  of 
infection.  But  on  the  other  hand,  I  could  not,  of 


200       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

course,  venture  to  state  unqualifiedly  that  there  may  not 
be  certain  isolated  cases  — " 

"  Pat !  Do  stop  that  growling !  What  ails  you,  any 
way  ?  I  never  saw  him  act  that  way  before.  I  wonder 
if  he  could  possibly  be — "  She  looked  at  Sommers 
questioningly. 

"  Infected  ? "  he  finished  for  her  understandingly. 
"As  a  matter  of  fact,  that  may  be  possible,  though  I 
should  not  consider  it  altogether  probable.  Since  the 
period  of  incubation  varies  from  three  weeks  to  six 
months,  as  in  man,  the  dog  may  possibly  have  been  in 
fected  before  coming  into  your  possession.  If  that  were 
true,  you  would  have  no  means  of  discovering  the  fact 
until  he  exhibits  certain  premonitory  symptoms,  which 
may  or  may  not  form  in  themselves  conclusive  evidence 
of  the  presence  of  the  disease." 

Helen  May  got  up  from  the  rock  and  moved  away, 
eyeing  Pat  suspiciously.  Pat  got  up  and  followed  her, 
keeping  a  watchful  eye  on  Sommers. 

"  What  are  the  symptoms,  for  gracious  sake  ? "  she 
demanded  fretfully,  worried  beyond  caring  how  she 
chose  her  words  for  Holman  Sommers.  "  His  eyes  look 
queer,  don't  you  think  ?  " 

"  Since  you  ask  me,  and  since  the  subject  is  not  one 
to  be  dismissed  lightly,  I  will  say  that  I  have  been  study 
ing  the  dog's  attitude  with  some  slight  measure  of  con- 


HELEN  MAY  UNDERSTANDS     201 

cern,"  Holman  Sommers  admitted  guardedly.  "  The 
suffused  eyeball  is  sometimes  found  in  the  premonitory 
stage  of  the  disease,  after  incubation  has  progressed  to 
a  certain  degree.  Also  irritability,  nervousness,  and 
depression  are  apt  to  be  present.  Has  the  dog  exhib 
ited  any  tendency  toward  sluggishness,  Miss  Steven 
son?" 

"  Well,  he's  been  lying  around  most  of  the  time  to 
day,"  Helen  May  confessed,  staring  at  Pat  appre 
hensively.  "  Of  course,  there  hasn't  been  anything 
much  for  him  to  do.  But  he  certainly  does  act  queer, 
just  since  you  came." 

Holman  Sommers  spoke  with  the  prim  decision  of  a 
teacher  instructing  a  class,  but  that  seemed  to  be  only 
his  way,  and  Helen  May  was  growing  used  to  it.  "  His 
evidencing  a  tendency  toward  sluggishness  to-day,  and 
his  subsequent  irritability,  may  or  may  not  be  signifi 
cant  of  an  abnormality.  If,  however,  the  dog  progresses 
to  the  stage  of  hypersesthesia,  and  the  muscles  of  degluti 
tion  become  extremely  rigid,  so  that  he  cannot  swallow, 
convulsions  will  certainly  follow.  There  will  also  ap 
pear  in  the  mouth  and  throat  a  secretion  of  thick,  viscid 
mucus,  with  thickened  saliva,  which  will  be  an  un- 
dubitable  proof  of  rabies." 

Having  thus  innocently  damned  poor  Pat  with  the 
suspicion  of  a  dreadful  malady,  Sommers  made  a  scien- 


202       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

tific  attempt  to  soothe  Helen  May's  fears.  He  advised, 
with  many  words  and  much  kind  intent,  that  Pat  be 
muzzled  until  the  "  hypersesthesia  "  did  or  did  not  de 
velop.  Helen  May  thought  that  the  terribly-termed 
symptoms  might  develop  before  they  could  get  a  muzzle 
from  town,  but  she  did  not  like  to  say  so. 

Partly  to  be  hospitable,  and  partly  to  get  away  from 
Pat,  she  mounted  the  pinto,  told  Pat  to  watch  the  goats, 
and  rode  down  to  the  house  to  see  Martha  Sommers. 
She  did  not  anticipate  any  pleasure  in  the  visit,  much 
as  she  had  longed  for  the  sound  of  a  woman's  voice. 
She  was  really  worried  half  to  death  over  Starr,  and 
the  rabies,  and  Pat,  and  the  nagging  consciousness  that 
she  had  not  accomplished  as  much  copying  of  manu 
script  as  Holman  Sommers  probably  expected. 

She  did  not  hear  half  of  what  Sommers  was  saying 
on  the  way  to  the  cabin.  His  very  amiability  jarred 
upon  her  nervous  depression.  She  had  always  liked 
him,  and  respected  his  vast  learning,  but  to-day  she  cer 
tainly  did  not  get  much  comfort  out  of  his  converse. 
She  wondered  why  she  had  been  so  light-hearted  while 
Starr  was  with  her  showing  her  how  to  shoot,  and  lec 
turing  her  about  the  danger  of  going  gunless  abroad; 
and  why  she  was  so  perfectly  dejected  when  Holman 
Sommers  talked  to  her  about  the  very  same  thing. 
Starr  had  certainly  painted  things  blacker  than  Holjnan 


HELEN  MAY  UNDERSTANDS     203 

had  done,  but  it  did  not  seem  to  have  the  same  effect. 

"  I  don't  see  what  we're  going  to  do  for  a  muzzle," 
she  launched  suddenly  into  the  middle  of  JTolman  Som- 
mers'  scientific  explanation  of  mirages. 

"  Vic  can  undoubtedly  construct  one  out  of  an  old 
strap,"  Holman  Sommers  retorted  impatiently,  and 
went  on  discoursing  about  refraction  and  reflection  and 
the  like. 

Helen  May  tried  to  follow  him,  and  gave  it  up. 
When  they  were  almost  to  the  spring  she  again  unwit 
tingly  jarred  Holman  Sommers  out  of  his  subject. 

"  Did  all  those  words  you  used  mean  that  Pat  will 
foam  at  the  mouth  like  mad  dogs  you  read  about  ? " 
she  asked  abruptly. 

Holman  Sommers,  tramping  along  beside  the  pinto, 
looked  at  her  queerly.  "  If  Pat  does  not,  I  strongly 
suspect  that  I  shall,"  he  told  her  weightily,  but  with  a 
twinkle  in  his  eyes.  "  I  have  been  endeavoring,  Miss 
Stevenson,  to  wean  your  thoughts  away  from  so  un 
happy  a  subject.  Why  permit  yourself  to  be  worried  ? 
The  thing  will  happen,  or  it  will  not  happen.  If  it 
does  happen,  you  will  be  powerless  to  prevent.  If  it 
does  not,  you  will  have  been  anxious  over  a  chimera  of 
the  imagination." 

"  Chimera  of  the  imagination  is  a  good  line,"  laughed 
Helen  May  flippantly.  "  All  the  same,  if  Pat  is  going 


204       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

to  gallop  all  over  the  scenery,  foaming  at  the  mouth 
and  throwing  fits  at  the  sight  of  water  — " 

"  As  a  matter  of  fact/'  Holman  Sommers  was  be 
ginning  again  in  his  most  instructive  tone,  when  a 
whoop  from  the  spring  interrupted  him. 

Vic  had  hobbled  obligingly  down  there  to  get  cool 
water  for  the  plump  lady  who  was  Holman  Sommers' 
sister,  and  he  had  nearly  stepped  on  a  sleepy  rattler 
stretched  out  in  the  sun.  Vic  was  making  a  collection 
of  rattles.  He  had  one  set,  so  far,  of  five  rattles  and 
a  "  button."  He  wanted  to  get  these  which  were  buzz 
ing  stridently  enough  for  three  snakes,  it  seemed  to 
Vic.  He  was  hopping  around  on  his  good  foot  and 
throwing  rocks;  and  the  snake,  having  retreated  to  a 
small  heap  of  loose  cobblestones,  was  thrusting  his  head 
out  in  vicious  little  striking  gestures,  and  keeping  the 
scaly  length  of  him  hidden. 

"  Wait  a  minute,  I'll  get  him,  Vic,"  called  Helen 
May,  suddenly  anxious  to  show  off  her  newly  acquired 
skill  with  firearms.  Starr  had  told  her  that  lots  of 
people  killed  rattlesnakes  by  shooting  their  heads  off. 
She  wanted  to  try  it,  anyway,  and  show  Vic  a  thing  or 
two.  So  she  rode  up  as  close  as  she  dared,  though  the 
pinto  shied  away  from  the  ominous  sound;  pulled  her 
pearl-handled  six-shooter  from  its  holster,  aimed,  and 
fired  at  the  snake's  head. 


HELEN  MAY  UNDERSTANDS     205 

You  have  heard,  no  doubt,  of  "  fool's  luck."  Helen 
May  actually  tore  the  whole  top  off  that  rattlesnake's 
head  (though  I  may  as  well  say  right  here  that  she  never 
succeeded  in  shooting  another  snake)  and  rode  noncha 
lantly  on  to  the  cabin  as  though  she  had  done  nothing  at 
all  unusual,  but  smiling  to  herself  at  Vic's  slack-jawed 
amazement  at  seeing  her  on  horseback,  with  a  gun  and 
such  uncanny  skill  in  the  use  of  it. 

She  felt  better  after  that,  and  she  rather  enjoyed 
the  plump  sister  of  Holman  Sommers.  The  plump  sis 
ter  called  him  Holly,  and  seemed  to  be  inordinately 
proud  of  his  learning  and  inordinately  fond  of  nagging 
at  him  over  little  things.  She  was  what  Helen  May 
called  a  vegetable  type  of  woman.  She  did  not  seem 
to  have  any  great  emotions  in  her  make-up.  She  sat 
in  the  one  rocking-chair  under  the  mesquite  tree  and 
crocheted  lace  and  talked  comfortably  about  Holly  and 
her  chickens  in  the  same  breath,  and  frankly  admired 
Helen  May's  "  spunk  "  in  living  out  alone  like  that. 

"  Don't  overlook  Vic,  though,"  Helen  May  put  in 
generously.  "  I  honestly  don't  believe  I  could  stand 
it  without  Vic." 

The  plump  sister  seemed  unimpressed.  "In  this 
country,"  she  said  with  a  certain  snug  posit iveness  that 
was  the  keynote  of  her  personality,  "  it's  the  women 
that  have  the  courage.  They  wouldn't  be  here  if  they 


206       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

didn't  have.  Think  how  close  we  are  to  the  Mexican 
border,  for  instance.  Anything  that  is  horrible  to 
woman  can  come  out  of  Mexico.  Not  that  I  look  down. 
on  them  over  there/'  she  added,  with  a  complacent  toler 
ance  in  her  tone.  "  They  are  victims  of  the  System 
that  has  kept  them  degraded  and  ignorant.  But  until 
they  are  lifted  up  and  educated  and  raised  to  our 
standards  they  are  bad. 

"You  can't  get  around  it,  Holly,  those  ignorant 
Mexicans  are  bad!"  She  had  lifted  her  eyes  accus 
ingly  to  where  Holman  Sommers  sat  on  the  ground  with 
his  knees  drawn  up  and  his  old  Panama  hat  hung  upon 
them.  He  was  smoking  a  pipe,  and  he  did  not  remove 
it  from  his  mouth;  but  Helen  May  saw  that  amused 
quirk  of  the  lips  just  the  same. 

"  You  can't  get  around  it.  You  know  it  as  well  as 
I  do,"  she  reiterated.  "  Cannibals  are  worth  saving, 
but  before  they  are  saved  they  are  liable  to  eat  the 
missionary.  And  it's  the  same  thing  with  your  Mexi 
cans.  You  want  to  educate  them  and  raise  them  to 
your  standards,  and  that's  all  right  as  far  as  it  goes. 
But  in  the  meantime  they're  bad.  And  if  Miss  Steven 
son  wasn't  such  a  good  shot,  I  wouldn't  be  able  to  sleep 
nights,  thinking  of  her  living  up  here  alone,  with  just 
a  boy  for  protection." 

"  Why,  I  never  heard  of  such  a  thing  as  any  danger 


HELEN  MAY  UNDERSTANDS     207 

from  Mexicans ! "  Helen  May  looked  inquiringly 
from  plump  sister  to  cynical  brother. 

"  Well,  you  needn't  wonder  at  Holly  not  telling  you/' 
said  the  plump  sister, —  her  name  was  Maggie. 
"  Holly's  a  fool  about  some  things.  Holly  is  trying  the 
Uplift,  and  he  shuts  his  eyes  to  things  that  don't  fit 
in  with  his  theories.  If  you've  copied  much  of  that 
stuff  he's  been  writing,  you  ought  to  know  how  imprac 
tical  he  is.  Holly's  got  his  head  in  the  clouds,  and  he 
won't  look  at  what's  right  under  his  feet."  Again  she 
looked  reproof  at  Holly,  and  again  Holly's  lips  quirked 
around  the  stem  end  of  his  pipe. 

"  You  just  keep  your  eyes  open,  Miss  Stevenson," 
she  admonished,  in  a  purring,  comfortable  voice.  "  I 
ain't  afraid,  myself,  because  I've  got  Holly  and  my 
cousin  Todd,  when  he's  at  home.  And  besides,  Holly's 
always  doing  missionary  stunts,  and  the  Mexicans  like 
him  because  he'll  let  them  rob  him  right  and  left  and 
come  back  and  take  what  they  forgot  the  first  time,  and 
Holly  won't  do  a  thing  to  them.  But  you  don't  want 
to  take  any  chances,  away  off  here  like  you  are.  You 
lock  your  door  good  at  night,  and  you  sleep  with  a  gun 
under  your  pillow.  And  don't  go  off  anywhere  alone. 
My,  even  with  a  gun  you  ain't  any  too  safe !  " 

Helen  May  gave  a  gasp.  But  Holman  Sommers 
laughed  outright  —  an  easy,  chuckling  laugh  that  partly 


208       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

reassured  her.  "  Danger  is  Maggie's  favorite  joke/'  he 
said  tolerantly.  "  As  a  matter  of  fact,  and  speaking 
from  a  close,  personal  knowledge  of  the  people  here 
abouts,  I  can  assure  you,  Miss  Stevenson,  that  you  are 
in  no  danger  whatever  from  the  source  my  sister  in 
dicates." 

"  Well,  but  Holly,  I've  said  it,  and  I'll  say  it  again ; 
you  can't  tell  what  may  come  up  out  of  Mexico." 
Plump  Maggie  rolled  up  her  lace  and  jabbed  the  ball 
decisively  with  the  crochet  hook.  "  We'll  have  to  go 
now,  or  the  chickens  will  be  wondering  where  their 
supper  is  coming  from.  You  do  what  I  say,  and  lock 
your  doors  at  night,  and  have  your  gun  handy,  Miss 
Stevenson.  Things  may  look  calm  enough  on  the  sur 
face,  but  they  ain't,  I  can  tell  you  that !  " 

"  Woman,  cease !  "  cried  Holly  banteringly,  while  he 
dusted  his  baggy  trousers  with  his  palms.  "  Miss 
Stevenson  will  be  haunted  by  nightmares  if  you  keep 


on." 


Once  they  were  gone,  Helen  May  surrendered  weakly 
to  one  fear,  to  the  extent  that  she  let  Vic  take  the  car 
bine  and  the  pinto  and  ride  over  to  where  she  had  left 
Pat  and  the  goats,  for  the  simple  reason  that  she  dreaded 
to  face  alone  that  much  maligned  dog.  Vic,  to  be  sure, 
would  have  quarreled  with  her  if  necessary,  to  get  a 
ride  on  the  pinto,  and  he  was  a  good  deal  astonished  at 


HELEN  MAY  UNDERSTANDS     209 

Helen  May's  sweet  consideration  of  a  boy's  hunger  for 
a  horse.  But  she  tempered  his  joy  a  bit  by  urging  him 
to  keep  an  eye  on  Pat,  who  had  been  acting  very  queer, 

"  He  kept  ruffling  up  his  back  and  showing  his  teeth 
at  Mr.  Sommers,"  she  explained  nervously.  (C  If  he 
does  it  when  you  go,  Vic,  and  if  he  foams  at  the  mouth, 
you'd  better  shoot  him  before  he  bites  something.  If 
a  mad  dog  bites  you,  you'll  get  hydrophobia,  and  bark 
and  growl  like  a  dog,  and  have  fits  and  die." 

"  G-oo-d  night!"  Vic  ejaculated  fervently,  and  went 
loping  awkwardly  down  the  trail  past  the  spring. 

That  left  Helen  May  alone  and  free  to  think  about 
the  horrors  that  might  come  up  out  of  Mexico,  and 
about  the  ignorant  Mexicans  who,  until  they  are  up 
lifted,  are  bad.  It  seemed  strange  that,  if  this  were 
true,  Starr  had  never  mentioned  the  danger.  And 
yet  — 

"  I'll  bet  anything  that's  just  what  Starr-of-the- 
Desert  did  mean !  "  she  exclaimed  aloud,  her  eyes  fixed 
intently  on  the  toes  of  her  scuffed  boots.  "  He  just 
didn't  want  to  scare  me  too  much  and  make  me  suspi 
cious  of  everybody  that  came  along,  and  so  he  talked 
mad  coyotes  at  me.  But  it  was  Mexicans  he  meant; 
I'll  bet  anything  it  was !  " 

If  that  was  what  Starr  meant,  then  the  shot  from  the 
pinnacle,  and  Starr's  crafty,  Indian-like  method  of  get- 


210       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

ting  away  unseen,  took  on  a  new  and  sinister  meaning. 
Helen  May  shivered  at  the  thought  of  Starr  riding 
away  in  search  of  the  man  who  had  tried  to  kill  him, 
and  of  the  risk  he  must  be  taking.  And  what  if  the 
fellow  came  back,  sneaking  back  in  the  dark,  and  tried 
to  get  in  the  house,  or  something  ?  It  surely  was  lucky 
that  Starr-of-the-Desert  had  just  happened  to  bring 
those  guns. 

But  had  he  just  happened  to  bring  them?  Helen 
May  was  not  stupid,  even  if  she  were  ignorant  of  cer 
tain  things  she  ought  to  know,  living  out  alone  in  the 
wild.  She  began  to  see  very  clearly  just  what  Starr 
had  meant ;  just  how  far  he  had  happened  to  have  extra 
guns  in  his  shack,  and  had  just  happened  to  get  hold 
of  a  horse  that  she  and  Vic  could  use ;  and  the  dog,  too, 
that  hated  Mexicans ! 

"  That's  why  he  hates  to  have  me  stay  on  the  claim !  " 
she  deduced  at  last.  "  Only  he  just  wouldn't  tell  me 
right  out  that  it  isn't  safe.  That's  what  he  meant  by 
asking  if  dad  knew  the  chances  I'd  have  to  take.  Well, 
dad  didn't  know,  but  after  the  price  dad  paid,  why  — 
I've  got  to  stay,  and  make  good.  There's  no  sense  in 
being  a  coward  about  it.  Starr  wouldn't  want  me  to 
be  a  coward.  He's  just  scheming  around  to  make  it  as 
safe  as  he  can,  without  making  me  cowardly." 

A  slow,  half -tender  smile  lit  her  chestnut-tinted  eyes, 


HELEN  MAY  UNDERSTANDS     211 

and  tilted  her  lips  at  the  corners.  "  Oh,  you  desert 
man  o*  mine,  I  see  through  you  now !  "  she  said  under 
her  breath,  and  kept  on  smiling  afterwards,  since  there 
was  not  a  soul  near  to  guess  her  thoughts.  "  Desert 
man  o'  mine"  was  going  pretty  strong,  if  you  stop 
to  think  of  it;  hut  Helen  May  would  have  died  — 
would  have  lied  —  would  have  gone  to  any  lengths  to 
keep  Starr  from  guessing  she  had  ever  thought  such  a 
thing  about  him.  That  was  the  woman  of  her. 

The  woman  of  her  it  was  too  that  kept  her  dwelling 
pleasedly  on  Starr's  shy,  protective  regard  for  her,  in 
stead  of  watching  the  peaks  in  fear  and  trembling  lest 
another  bad,  un-uplifted  Mexican  should  be  watching 
a  chance  to  send  another  bullet  zipping  down  into  the 
Basin  on  its  mission  of  wanton  wickedness. 


CHAPTEE  SIXTEEN 

STABB    SEES    TOO    LITTLE  OR    TOO    MTJCH 

AKEFULLY  skirting  the  ridge  where  Helen  May 
had  her  goats ;  keeping  always  in  the  gulches  and 
never  once  showing  himself  on  high  ground,  Starr  came 
after  a  while  to  a  point  where  he  could  look  up  to  the 
pinnacle  behind  Sunlight  Basin,  from  the  side  oppo 
site  the  point  where  he  had  wriggled  away  behind  a 
bush.  He  left  Rabbit  hidden  in  a  brush-choked  arroyo 
that  meandered  away  to  the  southwest,  and  began  cau 
tiously  to  climb. 

Starr  did  not  expect  to  come  upon  his  man  on  the 
peak ;  indeed  he  would  have  been  surprised  to  find  the 
fellow  still  there.  But  that  peak  was  as  good  as  any 
for  reconnoitering  the  surrounding  country,  was  higher 
than  any  other  within  several  miles,  in  fact.  What  he 
did  hope  was  to  pick  up  with  his  glasses  the  man's  line 
of  retreat  after  a  deed  he  must  believe  successfully  ac 
complished.  And  there  might  be  some  betraying  sign 
there  that  would  give  him  a  clue. 

There  was  always  the  possibility,  however,  that  the 


STARR  SEES  TOO  LITTLE      213 

fellow  had  lingered  to  see  what  took  place  after  the  sup 
posed  killing*  He  must  believe  that  the  girl  who  had 
been  with  Starr  would  take  some  action,  and  he  might 
want  to  know  to  a  certainty  what  that  action  was.  So 
Starr  went  carefully,  keeping  behind  boulders  and  rug 
ged  outcroppings  and  in  the  bottom  of  deep,  water-worn 
washes  when  nothing  else  served.  He  did  not  think 
the  fellow,  even  if  he  stayed  on  the  peak,  would  be 
watching  behind  him,  but  Starr  did  not  take  any 
chances,  and  climbed  rather  slowly. 

He  reached  the  summit  at  the  left  of  where  the  man 
had  stood  when  he  shot;  very  close  to  the  spot  where 
Helen  May  had  stood  and  looked  upon  Vic  and  the  goats 
and  the  country  she  abhorred.  Starr  saw  her  tracks 
there  in  a  sheltered  place  beside  a  rock  and  knew  that 
she  had  been  up  there,  though  in  that  dry  soil  he  could 
not,  of  course,  tell  when.  When  that  baked  soil  takes 
an  imprint,  it  is  apt  to  hold  it  for  a  long  while  unless 
rain  or  a  real  sand-storm  blots  it  out. 

He  hid  there  for  a  few  minutes,  craning  as  much  as 
he  dared  to  see  if  there  were  any  sign  of  the  man  he 
wanted.  In  a  little  he  left  that  spot  and  crept,  foot 
by  footj  over  to  the  cairn,  the  "  sheepherder's  monu 
ment,"  behind  which  the  fellow  had  stood.  There 
again  he  found  the  prints  of  Helen  May's  small,  moun 
tain  boots,  prints  which  he  had  come  to  know  very  well. 


214       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

And  close  to  them,  looking  as  though  the  two  had  stood 
together,  were  the  larger,  deeper  tracks  of  a  man. 

Starr  dared  not  rise  and  stand  upright.  He  must 
keep  always  under  cover  from  any  chance  spying  from 
below.  He  could  not,  therefore,  trace  the  footprints 
down  the  peak.  But  he  got  some  idea  of  the  man's 
direction  when  he  left,  and  he  knew,  of  course,  where 
to  find  Helen  May.  He  did  not  connect  the  two  in  his 
mind,  beyond  registering  clearly  in  his  memory  the  two 
sets  of  tracks. 

He  crept  closer  to  the  Basin  side  of  the  peak  and 
looked  down,  following  an  impulse  he  did  not  try  to 
analyze.  Certainly  he  did  not  expect  to  see  any  one, 
unless  it  were  Vic,  so  he  had  a  little  shock  of  surprise 
when  he  saw  Helen  May  riding  the  pinto  up  past  the 
spring,  with  a  man  walking  beside  her  and  glancing  up 
frequently  into  her  face.  Starr  was  human ;  I  have 
reminded  you  several  times  how  perfectly  human  he 
was.  He  immediately  disliked  that  man.  When  he 
heard  faintly  the  tones  of  Helen  May's  laugh,  he  dis 
liked  the  man  more. 

He  got  down,  with  his  head  and  his  arms  —  the  left 
one  was  lame  in  the  biceps  —  above  a  rock.  He  made 
sure  that  the  sun  had  swung  around  so  it  would  not 
shine  on  the  lenses  and  betray  him  by  any  heliographic 
reflection,  and  focussed  his  glasses  upon  the  two.  He 


STARR  SEES  TOO  LITTLE      215 

saw  as  well  as  heard  Helen  May  laugh,  and  he  scowled 
over  it.     But  mostly  he  studied  the  man. 

"  All  right  for  you,  old  boy,"  he  muttered.  "  I  don't 
know  who  the  devil  you  are,  but  I  don't  like  your  looks." 
Which  shows  how  human  jealousy  will  prejudice  a  man. 

He  saw  Vic  throwing  rocks  at  something  which  he 
judged  was  a  snake,  and  he  saw  Helen  May  rein  the 
pinto  awkwardly  around,  "  square  herself  for  action,'* 
as  Starr  would  have  styled  it,  and  fire.  By  her  elation 
artfully  suppressed,  by  the  very  carelessness  with  which 
she  shoved  the  gun  in  its  holster,  he  knew  that  she  had 
hit  whatever  she  shot  at.  He  caught  the  tones  of  IIol- 
man  Sommers'  voice  praising  her,  and  he  hated  the 
tones.  He  watched  them  come  on  up  to  the  little  house, 
where  they  disappeared  at  the  end  where  the  mesquite 
tree  grew.  Sitting  in  the  shade  there,  talking,  he 
guessed  they  were  doing,  and  for  some  reason  he  re 
sented  it.  He  saw  Vic  lift  a  rattlesnake  up  by  its  tail, 
and  heard  him  yell  that  it  had  six  rattles,  and  the  but 
ton  was  missing. 

After  that  Starr  turned  his  back  on  the  Basin  and 
began  to  search  scowlingly  the  plain.  He  tried  to  pull 
his  mind  away  from  Helen  May  and  her  visitor  and  to 
fix  it  upon  the  would-be  assassin.  He  believed  that 
the  horseman  he  had  seen  earlier  in  the  day  might  be 
the  one,  and  he  looked  for  him  painstakingly,  picking 


216       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

out  all  the  draws,  all  the  dry  washes  and  arroyos  of  that 
vicinity.  The  man  would  keep  under  cover,  of  course, 
in  making  his  getaway.  He  would  not  ride  across  a 
ridge  if  he  could  help  it,  any  more  than  would  Starr. 

Even  so,  from  that  height  Starr  could  look  down  into 
many  of  the  deep  places.  In  one  of  them  he  caught 
sight  of  a  horseman  picking  his  way  carefully  along 
the  boulder-strewn  bottom.  The  man's  back  was  to 
ward  him,  but  the  general  look  of  him  was  Mexican. 
The  horse  was  bay  with  a  rusty  black  tail,  but  there 
were  in  New  Mexico  thousands  of  bay  horses  with 
black  tails,  so  there  was  nothing  gained  there.  The 
rider  seemed  to  be  making  toward  Medina's  ranch, 
though  that  was  only  a  guess,  since  the  arroyo  he  was 
following  led  in  that  direction  at  that  particular  place. 
Later  it  took  a  sharp  turn  to  the  south,  and  the  rider 
went  out  of  sight  before  Starr  got  so  much  as  a  glimpse 
at  his  features. 

He  watched  for  a  few  minutes  longer,  sweeping  his 
glasses  slowly  to  right  and  left.  He  took  another  look 
down  into  the  Basin  and  saw  no  one  stirring,  that  being 
about  the  time  when  the  plump  sister  was  rolling  up  her 
fancy  work  and  tapering  off  her  conversation  to  the 
point  of  making  her  adieu.  Starr  did  not  watch  long 
enough  for  his  own  peace  of  mind.  Five  more  minutes 
would  have  brought  the  plump  one  into  plain  view  with 


STARR  SEES  TOO  LITTLE      217 

her  brother  and  Helen  May,  and  would  have  identified 
Holman  Sommers  as  the  escort  of  a  lady  caller.  But 
those  five  minutes  Starr  spent  in  crawling  back  down 
the  peak  on  the  side  farthest  from  the  Basin,  leaving 
Holman  Sommers  sticking  in  his  mind  with  the  un 
pleasant  flavor  of  mystery. 

He  mounted  Babbit  again  and  made  a  detour  of  sev 
eral  miles  so  that  he  might  come  up  on  the  ridge  behind 
Medina's  without  running  any  risk  of  crossing  the 
trail  of  the  men  he  wanted  to  watch.  About  two  o'clock 
he  stopped  at  a  shallow,  brackish  stream  and  let  Bab 
bit  rest  and  feed  for  an  hour  while  Starr  himself  climbed 
another  rocky  pinnacle  and  scanned  the  country  between 
there  and  Medina's. 

The  gate  that  let  one  off  the  main  road  and  into  the 
winding  trail  which  led  to  the  house  stood  out  in  plain 
view  at  the  mouth  of  a  shallow  draw.  This  was  not 
the  trail  which  led  out  from  the  home  ranch  toward 
San  Bonito,  where  Starr  had  been  going  when  he  saw 
the  track  of  the  mysterious  automobile,  but  the  trail 
one  would  take  in  going  from  Medina's  to  Malpais. 
The  ranch  house  itself  stood  back  where  the  draw  nar 
rowed,  but  the  yellow-brown  trail  ribboned  back  from 
the  gate  in  plain  view. 

Here  again  Starr  was  fated  to  get  a  glimpse  and  no 
more.  He  f ocussed  his  glasses  on  the  main  road  first ; 


218       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

picked  up  the  Medina  branch  to  the  gate,  followed  the 
trail  on  up  the  draw,  and  again  he  picked  up  a  man 
riding  a  bay  horse.  And  just  as  he  was  adjusting  his 
lenses  for  a  sharper  clarity  of  vision,  the  horse  trotted 
around  a  bend  and  disappeared  from  sight. 

Starr  swore,  but  that  did  not  bring  the  man  back 
down  the  trail.  Starr  was  not  at  all  sure  that  this  was 
the  same  man  he  had  seen  in  the  draw,  and  he  was  not 
sure  that  either  was  the  man  who  had  shot  at  him.  But 
roosting  on  that  heat-blistered  pinnacle  swearing  about 
the  things  he  didn't  know  struck  him  as  a  profitless 
performance,  so  he  climbed  down,  got  into  the  saddle 
again,  and  rode  on. 

He  reached  the  granite  ridge  back  of  Medina's  about 
four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  He  was  tired,  for  he 
had  been  going  since  daylight,  and  for  a  part  of  the 
time  at  least  he  had  been  going  on  foot,  climbing  the 
steep,  rocky  sides  of  peaks  for  the  sake  of  what  he 
might  see  from  the  top,  and  then  climbing  down  again 
for  sake  of  what  some  one  else  might  see  if  he  stayed 
too  long.  His  high-heeled  riding  boots  that  Helen  May 
so  greatly  admired  were  very  good-looking  and  very 
comfortable  when  he  had  them  stuck  into  stirrups  to 
the  heel.  But  they  had  never  been  built  for  walking. 
Therefore  his  feet  ached  abominably.  And  there  was 
the  heat,  the  searing,  dry  heat  of  midsummer  in  the 


STARR  SEES  TOO  LITTLE      219 

desert  country.  He  was  dog  tired,  and  he  was  de 
pressed  because  he  had  not  seemed  able  to  accomplish 
anything  with  all  his  riding  and  all  his  scanning  of 
the  country. 

He  climbed  slowly  the  last,  brown  granite  ridge,  the 
ridge  behind  Estan  Medina's  house.  He  would  watch 
the  place  and  see  what  was  going  on  there.  Then,  he 
supposed  he  should  go  back  and  watch  Las  Nuevas, 
though  his  chief  seemed  to  think  that  he  had  discovered 
enough  there  for  their  purposes.  He  had  sent  on  the 
pamphlets,  and  he  knew  that  when  the  time  was  right, 
Las  Nuevas  would  be  muzzled  with  a  postal  law  and, 
he  hazarded,  a  seizure  of  their  mail. 

What  he  had  to  do  now  was  to  find  the  men  who 
were  working  in  conjunction  with  Las  Nuevas;  who 
were  taking  the  active  part  in  organizing  and  in  con 
trolling  the  Mexican  Alliance.  So  far  he  had  not  hit 
upon  the  real  leaders,  and  he  knew  it,  and  in  his  weari 
ness  was  oppressed  with  a  sense  of  failure.  They  might 
better  have  left  him  in  Texas,  he  told  himself  glumly. 
They  sure  had  drawn  a  blank  when  they  drew  him  into 
the  Secret  Service,  because  he  had  accomplished  about 
as  much  as  a  pup  trying  to  run  down  a  coyote. 

A  lizard  scuttled  out  of  his  way  when  he  crawled 
between  two  boulders  that  would  shield  him  from  sight 
unless  a  man  walked  right  up  on  him  where  he  lay  — 


220       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

and  Starr  did  not  fear  that,  because  there  were  too  many 
loose  cobbles  to  roll  and  rattle;  he  knew,  because  he 
had  been  twice  as  long  as  he  liked  in  getting  to  this 
point  quietly.  He  took  off  his  hat,  telling  himself 
morosely  that  you  couldn't  tell  his  head  from  a  lump  of 
granite  anyway,  when  he  had  his  hat  off,  and  lifted  his 
glasses  to  his  aching  eyes. 

The  Medina  ranch  was  just  showing  signs  of  awaken 
ing  after  a  siesta.  Estan  himself  was  pottering  about 
the  corral,  and  Luis,  a  boy  about  eighteen  years  old, 
was  fooling  with  a  colt  in  a  small  enclosure  that  had 
evidently  been  intended  for  a  garden  and  had  been  per 
mitted  to  grow  up  in  weeds  and  grass  instead. 

After  a  while  a  peona  came  out  and  fed  the  chickens, 
and  hunted  through  the  sheds  for  eggs,  which  she  car 
ried  in  her  apron.  She  stopped  to  watch  Luis  and  the 
colt,  and  Luis  coaxed  her  to  give  him  an  egg,  which  he 
was  feeding  to  the  colt  when  his  mother  saw  and  called 
to  him  shrilly  from  the  house.  The  peona  ducked 
guiltily  and  ran,  stooping,  beside  a  stone  wall  that  hid 
her  from  sight  until  she  had  slipped  into  the  kitchen. 
The  seiiora  searched  for  her,  scolding  volubly  in  high- 
keyed  Mexican,  so  that  Estan  came  lounging  up  to  see 
what  was  the  matter. 

Afterwards  they  all  went  to  the  house,  and  Starr 
knew  that  there  would  be  real,  Mexican  tortillas  crisp 


STARR  SEES  TOO  LITTLE      221 

and  hot  from  the  baking,  and  chili  con  carne  and  beans, 
and  perhaps  another  savory  dish  or  two  which  the  senora 
herself  had  prepared  for  her  sons. 

Starr  was  hungry.  He  imagined  that  he  could  smell 
those  tortillas  from  where  he  lay.  He  could  have  gone 
down,  and  the  Medinas  would  have  greeted  him  with 
lavish  welcome  and  would  have  urged  him  to  eat  his 
fill.  They  would  not  question  him,  he  knew.  If  they 
suspected  his  mission,  they  would  cover  their  suspicion 
with  much  amiable  talk,  and  their  protestations  of  wel 
come  would  be  the  greater  because  of  their  insincerity. 
But  he  did  not  go  down.  He  made  himself  more  com 
fortable  between  the  boulders  and  settled  himself  to 
wait  and  see  what  the  night  would  bring. 

First  it  brought  the  gorgeous  sunset,  that  made  him 
think  of  Helen  May  just  because  it  was  beautiful  and 
because  she  would  probably  be  gazing  up  at  the  crimson 
and  gold  and  all  the  other  elusive,  swift-changing  shades 
that  go  to  make  a  barbaric  sunset.  Sure,  she  would  be 
looking  at  it,  unless  she  was  still  talking  to  that  man, 
he  thought  jealously.  It  fretted  him  that  he  did  not 
know  who  the  fellow  was.  So  he  turned  his  thoughts 
away  from  the  two  of  them. 

Next  came  the  dusk,  and  after  that  the  stars.  There 
was  no  moon  to  taunt  him  with  memories,  or  more 
practically,  to  light  for  him  the  near  country.  With 


222       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

the  stars  came  voices  from  the  porch  of  the  adobe  house 
below  him.  Estan's  voice  he  made  out  easily,  calling 
out  to  Luis  inside,  to  ask  if  he  had  shut  the  colt  in  the 
corral.  The  senora's  high  voice  spoke  swiftly,  admon 
ishing  Luis.  And  presently  Luis  could  be  seen  dimly 
as  he  moved  down  toward  the  corrals. 

Starr  hated  this  spying  upon  a  home,  but  he  held 
himself  doggedly  to  the  task.  Too  many  homes  were 
involved,  too  many  sons  were  in  danger,  too  many 
mothers  would  mourn  if  he  did  not  play  the  spy  to 
some  purpose  now.  This  very  home  he  was  watching 
would  be  the  happier  when  he  and  his  fellows  had  com 
pleted  their  work  and  the  snake  of  intrigue  was  be 
headed  just  as  Helen  May  had  beheaded  the  rattler 
that  afternoon.  This  home  was  happy  now,  under  the 
very  conditions  that  were  being  deplored  so  bombastic 
ally  in  the  circulars  he  had  read.  Why,  then,  should 
its  peace  be  despoiled  because  of  political  agitators  ? 

Luis  put  the  colt  up  for  the  night  and  returned, 
whistling,  to  the  house.  The  tune  he  whistled  was  one 
he  had  learned  at  some  movie  show,  and  in  a  minute 
he  broke  into  singing,  "Hearts  seem  light,  and  life 
seems  bright  in  dreamy  Chinatown."  Starr,  brooding 
up  there  above  the  boy,  wished  that  Luis  might  never 
be  heavier  of  heart  than  now,  when  he  went  singing  up 
the  path  to  the  thick-walled  adobe.  He  liked  Luis. 


STARR  SEES  TOO  LITTLE      223 

The  murmur  of  voices  continued,  and  after  awhile 
there  came  plaintively  up  to  Starr  the  sound  of  a  guitar, 
and  mingling  with  it  the  voice  of  Luis  singing  a  Spanish 
song.  La  Golondrina,  it  was,  that  melancholy  song 
of  exile  which  Mexicans  so  love.  Starr  listened  gloom 
ily,  following  the  words  easily  enough  in  that  still 
night  air. 

Away  to  the  northwest  there  gleamed  a  brighter, 
more  intimate  star  than  the  constellation  above.  While 
Luis  sang,  the  watcher  in  the  rocks  fixed  his  eyes  wist 
fully  on  that  gleaming  pin  point  of  light,  and  won 
dered  what  Helen  May  was  doing.  Her  lighted  win 
dow  it  was ;  her  window  that  looked  down  through  the 
mouth  of  the  Basin  and  out  over  the  broken  mesa  land 
that  was  half  desert.  Until  then  he  had  not  known  that 
her  window  saw  so  far ;  though  it  was  not  strange  that 
he  could  see  her  light,  since  he  was  on  the  crest  of  a 
ridge  higher  than  any  other  until  one  reached  the  bluff 
that  held  Sunlight  Basin  like  a  pocket  within  its 
folds. 

Luis  finished  the  song,  strummed  a  while,  sang  a 
popular  rag-time,  strummed  again  and,  so  Starr  ex 
plained  his  silence,  went  to  bed.  Estan  began  again  to 
talk,  now  and  then  lifting  his  voice,  speaking  earnestly, 
as  though  he  was  arguing  or  protesting,  or  perhaps  ex 
pounding  a  theory  of  some  sort.  Starr  could  not  catch 


224       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

the  words,  though  he  knew  in  a  general  way  the  meaning 
of  the  tones  Estan  was  using. 

A  new  sound  brought  him  to  his  knees,  listening: 
the  sound  of  a  high-powered  engine  being  thrown  into 
low  gear  and  buzzing  like  angry  hornets  because  the 
wheels  did  not  at  once  grip  and  thrust  the  car  forward. 
Sand  would  do  that.  While  Starr  listened,  he  heard 
the  chuckle  of  the  car  getting  under  way,  and  a  sub 
dued  purring  so  faint  that,  had  there  not  been  a  slow, 
quiet  breeze  from  that  direction,  the  sound  would  never 
have  reached  his  ears  at  all.  Even  so,  he  had  no  more 
than  identified  it  when  the  silence  flowed  in  and  cov 
ered  it  as  a  lazy  tide  covers  a  pebble  in  the  moist  sand. 

Starr  glanced  down  at  the  house,  heard  Estan  still 
talking,  and  got  carefully  to  his  feet.  He  thought  he 
knew  where  the  car  had  slipped  in  the  sand,  and  he 
made  toward  the  place  as  quickly  as  he  could  go  in  the 
dark  and  still  keep  his  movements  quiet.  It  was  back 
in  that  arroyo  where  he  had  first  discovered  traces  of 
the  car  he  now  felt  sure  had  come  from  the  yard  of 
Las  Nuevas. 

He  remembered  that  on  the  side  next  him  the  arroyo 
had  deep-cut  banks  that  might  get  him  a  nasty  fall  if 
he  attempted  them  in  the  dark,  so  he  took  a  little  more 
time  for  the  trip  and  kept  to  the  rougher,  yet  safer, 
granite-covered  ridge.  Once,  just  once,  he  caught  the 


STARR  SEES  TOO  LITTLE      225 

glow  of  dimmed  headlights  falling  on  the  slope  farth 
est  from  him.  He  hurried  faster,  after  that,  and  so  he 
climbed  down  into  the  arroyo  at  last,  near  the  point 
where  he  had  climbed  out  of  it  that  other  day. 

He  went,  as  straight  as  he  could  go  in  the  dark,  to 
the  place  where  he  had  first  seen  the  tracks  of  the  Sil- 
vertown  cords.  He  listened,  straining  his  ears  to  catch 
the  smallest  sound.  A  cricket  fiddled  stridently,  but 
there  was  nothing  else. 

Starr  took  a  chance  and  searched  the  ground  with  a 
pocket  flashlight.  He  did  not  find  any  fresh  tracks, 
however.  And  while  he  was  standing  in  the  dark  con 
sidering  how  the  hills  might  have  carried  the  sound 
deceptively  to  his  ear,  and  how  he  may  have  been  mis 
taken,  from  somewhere  on  the  other  side  of  the  ridge 
came  the  abrupt  report  of  a  gun.  The  sound  was  muf 
fled  by  the  distance,  yet  it  was  unmistakable.  Starr 
listened,  heard  no  second  shot,  and  ran  back  up  the  rocky 
gulch  that  led  to  the  ridge  he  had  just  left,  behind 
Medina's  house. 

He  was  puffing  when  he  reached  the  place  where  he 
had  lain  between  the  two  boulders,  and  he  stopped  there 
to  listen  again.  It  came, —  the  sound  he  instinctively 
expected,  yet  dreaded  to  hear;  the  sound  of  a  woman's 
high-keyed  wailing. 


CHAPTEE  SEVENTEEN 

"  IS    HE    THEN   DEAD MY    SON  ?  " 

STARR  hurried  down  the  bluff,  slipping,  sliding, 
running  where  the  way  was  clear  of  rocks.  So 
presently  he  came  to  the  stone  wall,  vaulted  over  it, 
and  stopped  beside  the  tragic  little  group  dimly  outlined 
in  the  house  yard  just  off  the  porch. 

"  My  son  —  my  son !  "  the  old  woman  was  wailing, 
on  her  knees  beside  a  long,  inert  figure  lying  on  its  back 
on  the  hard-packed  earth.  Back  of  her  the  peona  hov 
ered,  hysterical,  useless.  Luis,  half  dressed  and  a  good 
deal  dazed  yet  from  sleep  and  the  suddenness  of  his 
waking,  knelt  beside  his  mother,  patting  her  shoulder 
in  futile  affection,  staring  down  bewilderedly  at  Es- 
tan. 

So  Starr  found  them.  Scenes  like  this  were  not  so 
unusual  in  his  life,  which  had  been  lived  largely  among 
unruly  passions.  He  spoke  quietly  to  Luis  and  knelt 
to  see  if  the  man  lived.  The  seiiora  took  comfort  from 
his  calm  presence  and  with  dumb  misery  watched  his 
deft  movements  while  he  felt  for  heartbeats  and  for  the 
wound. 


"IS  HE  THEN  DEAD— MY  SON?"    227 

"  But  is  he  then  dead,  my  son  ?  "  she  wailed  in  Span 
ish,  when  Starr  gently  laid  down  upon  Estan's  breast 
the  hand  he  had  been  holding.  "  But  so  little  while  ago 
he  lived  and  to  me  he  talked.  Ah,  my  son !  " 

Starr  looked  at  her  quietingly.  "  How,  then,  did  it 
happen  ?  Tell  me,  senora,  that  I  may  assist,"  he  said, 
speaking  easily  the  Spanish  which  she  spoke. 

"  Ah,  the  good  friend  that  thou  art !  Ah,  my  son 
that  I  loved !  How  can  I  tell  what  is  mystery  ?  Who 
would  harm  my  son  —  my  little  Estan  that  was  so 
good  ?  Yet  a  voice  called  softly  from  the  dark  —  and 
me,  I  heard,  though  to  my  bed  I  had  but  gone.  '  Es 
tan  ! '  called  the  voice,  so  low.  And  my  son  —  ah,  my 
son !  —  to  the  door  he  went  swiftly,  the  lampara  in  his 
hand,  holding  it  high  —  so  —  that  the  light  may  shine 
into  the  dark. 

"  '  Who  calls  ?  '  Me,  I  heard  my  son  ask  —  ah,  never 
again  will  I  hear  his  voice !  Out  of  the  door  he  went  — 
to  see  the  man  who  called.  To  the  porch-end  he  came 
—  I  heard  his  steps.  Ah,  my  son!  Never  again  thy 
dear  footsteps  will  I  hear !  "  And  she  fell  to  weeping 
over  him, 

"And  then?  Tell  me,  senora.  What  happened 
next  ? " 

"  Ah  —  the  shot  that  took  from  me  my  son !  Then 
feet  running  away  —  then  I  came  out  —  Ah,  querido 


228       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

mio,  that  thou  shouldst  be  torn  from  thy  mother  thus !  " 
"  And  you  don't  know  —  ?  " 

"  No,  no  —  no  —  ah,  that  my  heart  should  break  with 
sorrow  — " 

"  Hush,  mother !  'Twas  Apodaca !  He  is  power 
ful  —  and  Estan  would  not  come  into  the  Alliance.  I 
told  him  it  would  be  — "  Luis,  kneeling  there,  beating 
his  hands  together  in  the  dark,  spoke  with  the  heedless 
passion  of  youth. 

"  Which  Apodaca  ?  Juan  ?  "  Starr's  voice  was  low, 
with  the  sympathetic  tone  that  pulls  open  the  floodgates 
of  speech  when  one  is  stricken  hard. 

"  Not  Juan ;  Juan  is  a  fool.  Elfigo  Apodaca  it  wras 
—  or  some  one  obeying  his  order.  Estan  they  feared 
-- —  Estan  would  not  come  in,  and  the  time  was  coming 
so  close  —  and  Estan  held  out  and  talked  against  it. 
I  told  him  his  life  would  pay  for  his  holding  out.  I 
told  him !  And  now  I  shall  kill  Apodaca  —  and  my  life 
also  will  pay — " 

"  What  is  this  thou  sayest  ?  "  The  mother,  roused 
from  her  lamentations  by  the  boy's  vehemence,  plucked 
at  his  sleeve.  "  But  thou  must  not  kill,  my  little  son. 
Thou  art  — " 

"  Why  not  ?  They'll  all  be  killing  in  a  month !  " 
flashed  Luis  unguardedly. 

Starr,  kneeling  on  one  knee,  looked  at  the  boy  across 


"IS  HE  THEN  DEAD— MY  SON?"    229 

Estan's  chilling  body.  A  guarded  glance  it  was,  but 
a  searching  glance  that  questioned  and  weighed  and  sat 
in  judgment  upon  the  truth  of  the  startling  assertion. 
Yet  younger  boys  than  Luis  are  commanding  troops  in 
Mexico,  for  the  warlike  spirit  develops  early  in  a  land 
where  war  is  the  chief  business  of  the  populace.  It 
was  not  strange  then  that  eighteen-year-old  Luis  should 
be  actively  interested  in  the  building  of  a  revolution  on 
this  side  the  border.  It  was  less  strange  because  of  his 
youth;  for  Luis  would  have  all  the  fiery  attributes  of 
the  warrior,  unhindered  by  the  cool  judgment  of  ma 
turity.  He  would  see  the  excitement,  the  glory  of  it. 
Estan  would  see  the  terrible  cost  of  it,  in  lives  and  in 
patrimony.  Luis  loved  action.  Estan  loved  his  big 
flocks  and  his  acres  upon  acres  of  land,  and  his  quiet 
home;  had  loved  too  his  foster  country,  if  he  had 
spoken  his  true  sentiments.  So  Starr  took  his  cue  and 
thanked  his  good  fortune  that  he  had  come  upon  this 
tragedy  while  it  was  fresh,  and  while  the  shock  of  it 
was  loosening  the  tongue  of  Luis. 

"  A  month  from  now  is  another  time,  Luis,"  he  said 
quietly.  "  This  is  murder,  and  the  man  who  did  it  can 
be  punished." 

"  You  can't  puneesh  Apodaca,"  Luis  retorted,  speak 
ing  English,  since  Starr  had  used  the  language,  which 
put  their  talk  beyond  the  mother's  understanding. 


230       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

"He  is  too  —  too  high  up —  But  I  can  kill,"  he 
added  vindictively. 

"  The  law  can  get  him  better  than  you  can/'  Starr 
pointed  out  cannily.  "  Can  you  think  of  anybody  else 
that  might  be  in  on  the  deal  ?  " 

"  IST-o  — "  Luis  was  plainly  getting  a  hold  on  him 
self,  and  would  not  tell  all  he  knew.  "  I  don't  know 
notheeng  about  it." 

"  Well,  what  you'd  better  do  now  is  saddle  a  horse 
and  ride  in  to  town  and  tell  the  coroner  —  and  the 
sheriff.  If  you  don't/'  he  added,  when  he  caught  a 
stiffening  of  opposition  in  the  attitude  of  Luis,  "  if 
you  don't,  you  will  find  yourself  in  all  kinds  of  trouble. 
It  will  look  bad.  You  have  to  notify  the  coroner,  any 
way,  you  know.  That's  the  law.  And  the  coroner 
will  see  right  away  that  Estan  was  shot.  So  the  sher 
iff  will  be  bound  to  get  on  the  job,  and  it  will  be  a 
heap  better  for  you,  Luis,  if  you  tell  him  yourself. 
And  if  you  try  to  kill  Apodaca,  that  will  rob  your 
mother  of  both  her  sons.  You  must  think  of  her. 
Estan  would  never  bring  trouble  to  her  that  way. 
You  stand  in  his  place  now.  So  you  ride  in  and  tell 
the  sheriff  and  tell  the  coroner.  Say  that  you  suspect 
Elfigo  Apodaca.  The  sheriff  will  do  the  rest." 

"  What  does  the  senor  advise,  my  son  ?  "  murmured 
the  mother,  plucking  at  the  sleeve  of  Luis.  "  The  good 


"IS  HE  THEN  DEAD— MY  SON?"    231 

friend  he  was  to  my  poor  Estan  —  my  son !  Do  thou 
what  he  tells  thee,  for  he  is  wise  and  good,  and  he 
would  not  guide  thee  wrong." 

Luis  hesitated,  staring  down  at  the  dead  body  of 
Estan.  "  I  will  go/'  he  said,  breaking  in  upon  the 
sound  of  the  peona's  reasonless  weeping.  "  I  will  do 
that.  The  sheriff  is  not  Mexican,  or  — "  He  checked 
himself  abruptly  and  peered  across  at  Starr.  "  I  go/' 
he  repeated  hastily. 

He  stood  up,  and  Starr  rose  also  and  assisted  the  old 
lady  to  her  feet.  She  seemed  inclined  to  cling  to  him. 
Her  Estan  had  liked  Starr,  and  for  that  her  faith  in 
him  never  faltered  now.  He  laid  his  arm  protectively 
around  her  shaking  shoulders. 

"  Senora,  go  you  in  and  rest,"  he  commanded  gently, 
in  Spanish.  "  Have  the  girl  bring  a  blanket  to  cover 
Estan  —  for  here  he  must  remain  until  he  is  viewed  by 
the  coroner  —  you  understand  ?  Your  son  would  be 
grieved  if  you  do  not  rest.  You  still  have  Luis,  your 
little  son.  You  must  be  brave  and  help  Luis  to  be  a 
man.  Then  will  Estan  be  proud  of  you  both."  So 
he  suited  his  speech  to  the  gentle  ways  of  the  old 
senora,  and  led  her  back  to  the  shelter  of  the  porch  as 
tenderly  as  Estan  could  have  done. 

He  sent  the  peona  for  a  lamp  to  replace  the  one  that 
had  broken  when  Estan  fell  with  it  in  his  hand.  He 


232       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

settled  the  senora  upon  the  cowhide-covered  couch 
where  her  frail  body  could  be  comfortable  and  she  still 
could  feel  that  she  was  watching  beside  her  son.  He 
placed  a  pillow  under  her  head,  and  spread  a  gay- 
striped  scrape  over  her,  and  tucked  it  carefully  around 
her  slippered  feet.  The  senora  wept  more  quietly,  and 
called  him  the  son  of  her  heart,  and  brokenly  thanked 
God  for  the  tenderness  of  all  good  men. 

He  explained  to  her  briefly  that  he  had  been  riding 
to  town  by  a  short-cut  over  the  ridge  when  he  heard 
the  shot  and  hurried  down;  and  that,  having  left  his 
horse  up  there,  he  must  go  up  after  it  and  bring  it 
around  to  the  corral.  He  would  not  be  gone  longer 
than  was  absolutely  necessary,  he  told  her,  and  he  prom 
ised  to  come  back  and  stay  with  her  while  the  officers 
were  there.  Then  he  hurried  away,  the  seiiora's 
broken  thanks  lingering  painfully  in  his  memory. 

At  the  top  of  the  bluff,  where  he  had  climbed  as  fast 
as  he  could,  he  stood  for  a  minute  to  get  his  breath 
back.  He  heard  the  muffled  pluckety-pluck  of  a  horse 
galloping  down  the  sandy  trail,  and  he  knew  that  there 
went  Luis  on  his  bitter  mission  to  San  Bonito.  His 
eyes  turned  involuntarily  toward  Sunlight  Basin. 
There  twinkled  still  the  light  from  Helen  May's  win 
dow,  though  it  was  well  past  midnight.  Starr  won 
dered  at  that,  and  hoped  she  was  not  sick.  Then  im- 


"IS  HE  THEN  DEAD— MY  SON?"     233 

mediately  his  face  grew  lowering.  For  between  him 
and  the  clear,  twinkling  light  of  her  window  he  saw  a 
faint  glow  that  moved  swiftly  across  the  darkness; 
an  automobile  running  that  way  with  dimmed  head 
lights. 

"  Now  what  in  thunder  does  that  mean  ? "  he  asked 
himself  uneasily.  He  had  not  in  the  least  expected 
that  move.  He  had  believed  that  the  automobile  he 
had  heard,  which  very  likely  had  carried  the  murderer, 
would  hurry  straight  to  town,  or  at  least  in  that  direc 
tion.  But  those  dimmed  lights,  and  in  that  the  ma 
chine  surely  betrayed  a  furtiveness  in  its  flight,  seemed 
to  be  heading  for  Sunlight  Basin,  though  it  might 
merely  be  making  the  big  loop  on  its  way  to  Malpais 
or  beyond.  He  stared  again  at  the  twinkling  light  of 
Helen  May's  lamp.  What  in  the  world  was  she  doing 
up  at  that  hour  of  the  night  ?  "  Oh,  well,  maybe  she 
sleeps  with  a  light  burning."  He  dismissed  the  un 
usual  incident,  and  went  on  about  his  more  urgent  bus 
iness. 

Eabbit  greeted  him  with  a  subdued  nicker  of  relief, 
telling  plainly  as  a  horse  can  speak  that  he  had  been 
seriously  considering  foraging  for  his  supper  and  not 
waiting  any  longer  for  Starr.  There  he  had  stood  for 
six  or  seven  hours,  just  where  Starr  had  dismounted 
and  dropped  the  reins.  He  was  a  patient  little  horse, 


234       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

and  he  knew  his  business,  but  there  is  a  limit  to  patience, 
and  Eabbit  had  almost  reached  it. 

Starr  led  him  up  over  the  rocky  ridge  into  the  arroyo 
where  the  automobile  had  been,  and  from  there  he  rode 
down  to  the  trail  and  back  to  the  Medina  ranch.  He 
watered  Rabbit  at  the  ditch,  pulled  off  the  saddle,  and 
turned  him  into  the  corral,  throwing  him  an  armful  of 
secate  from  a  half -used  stack.  Then  he  went  up  to  the 
house  and  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  porch  beside  the 
senora,  who  was  still  weeping  and  murmuring  yearn 
ing  endearments  to  the  ears  that  could  not  hear. 

He  did  not  know  how  long  he  would  have  to  wait, 
but  he  knew  that  Luis  would  not  spare  his  horse.  He 
smoked,  and  studied  the  things  which  Luis  had  let  drop ; 
every  word  of  immense  value  to  him  now.  Elfigo  Ap- 
odaca  he  knew  slightly,  and  he  wondered  a  little  that 
he  would  be  the  Alliance  leader  in  this  section  of  the 
State. 

Elfigo  Apodaca  seemed  so  thoroughly  Americanized 
that  only  his  swarthy  skin  and  black  hair  and  eyes  re 
minded  one  that  he  was  after  all  a  son  of  the  south. 
He  did  a  desultory  business  in  real  estate,  and  owned 
an  immense  tract  of  land,  the  remnant  of  an  old  Span 
ish  grant,  and  went  in  for  fancy  cattle  and  horses.  He 
seemed  more  a  sportsman  than  a  politician  —  a  broad- 
minded,  easy-going  man  of  much  money.  Starr  had 


"IS  HE  THEN  DEAD— MY  SON?"    235 

still  a  surprised  sensation  that  the  trail  should  lead  to 
Elfigo.  Juan,  the  brother  of  Elfigo,  he  could  find  it 
much  easier  to  see  in  the  role  of  conspirator.  But  hor 
ror  does  not  stop  to  weigh  words,  and  Starr  knew  that 
Luis  had  spoken  the  truth  in  that  unguarded  moment. 

He  pondered  that  other  bit  of  information  that  had 
slipped  out :  "  In  a  month  they'll  all  be  killing."  That 
was  a  point  which  he  and  his  colleagues  had  not  been 
able  to  settle  in  their  own  minds,  the  proposed  date  of 
the  uprising.  In  a  month !  The  time  was  indeed 
short,  but  now  that  they  had  something  definite  to  work 
on,  a  good  deal  might  be  done  in  a  month;  so  on  the 
whole  Starr  felt  surprisingly  cheerful.  And  if  Elfigo 
found  himself  involved  in  a  murder  trial,  it  would  help 
to  hamper  his  activities  with  the  Alliance.  Starr  re 
gretted  the  death  of  Estan,  but  he  kept  thinking  of  the 
good  that  would  come  of  it.  He  kept  telling  himself 
that  the  shooting  of  Estan  Medina  would  surely  put  a 
crimp  in  the  revolution.  Also  it  would  mark  Luis  for 
a  mate  to  the  bullet  that  reached  Estan,  if  that  hot 
headed  youth  did  not  hold  his  tongue. 

He  was  considering  the  feasibility  of  sending  Luis 
and  his  mother  out  of  the  country  for  awhile,  when  the 
sheriff  and  coroner  and  Luis  came  rocking  down  the 
narrow  trail  in  a  roadster  built  for  speed  where  speed 
was  no  pleasure  but  a  necessity. 


236       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

The  sheriff  was  an  ex-cattleman,  with  a  desert-baked 
face  and  hard  eyes  and  a  disconcerting  habit  of  chew 
ing  gum  and  listening  and  saying  nothing  himself. 
For  the  sake  of  secrecy,  Starr  had  avoided  any  acquaint 
ance  with  him  and  his  brother  officers,  so  the  sheriff 
gave  him  several  sharp  glances  while  he  was  viewing 
the  body  and  the  immediate  surroundings.  Luis  had 
told  him,  coming  out,  the  meager  details  of  the  murder, 
and  he  had  again  accused  Elfigo  Apodaca,  though  he 
had  done  some  real  thinking  on  the  way  to  town,  and 
had  cooled  to  the  point  where  he  chose  his  words  more 
carefully.  The  sheriffs  name  was  O'Malley,  which  is 
reason  enough  why  Luis  was  chary  of  confiding  Mexi 
can  secrets  to  his  keeping. 

Elfido  Apodaca  had  quarreled  with  Estan,  said  Luis. 
He  had  come  to  the  ranch,  and  Luis  had  heard  them 
quarreling  over  water  rights.  Elfigo  had  threatened 
to  "  get "  Estan,  and  to  "  fix  "  him,  and  Luis  had  been 
afraid  that  Estan  would  be  shot  before  the  quarrel  was 
over.  He  had  heard  the  voice  that  called  Estan  out 
of  the  house  that  night,  and  he  told  the  sheriff  that  he 
had  recognized  Elfigo's  voice.  Luis  surely  did  all  he 
could  to  settle  any  doubt  in  the  mind  of  the  sheriff, 
and  he  felt  that  he  had  been  very  smart  to  say  they 
quarreled  over  water  rights;  a  lawsuit  two  years  ago 


"IS  HE  THEN  DEAD— MY  SON?"    237 

over  that  very  water-right  business  lent  convincingness 
to  the  statement. 

The  sheriff  had  not  said  anything  at  all  after  Luis 
had  finished  his  story  of  the  shooting.  He  had  chewed 
gum  with  the  slow,  deliberate  jaw  of  a  cow  meditating 
over  her  cud,  and  he  had  juggled  the  wheel  of  his  ma 
chine  and  shifted  his  gears  on  hills  and  in  sandy 
stretches  with  the  same  matter-of-fact  deliberation. 
Sheriff  O'Malley  might  be  called  one  of  the  old  school 
of  rail-roosting,  stick-whittling  thinkers.  He  took  his 
time,  and  he  did  not  commit  himself  too  impulsively  to 
any  cause.  But  he  could  act  with  surprising  sudden 
ness,  and  that  made  him  always  an  uncertain  factor, 
so  that  lawbreakers  feared  him  as  they  feared  night 
mares. 

The  sheriff,  then,  stood  around  with  his  hands  in  his 
pockets  and  his  feet  planted  squarely  under  him,  squeez 
ing  a  generous  quid  of  gum  between  his  teeth  and  very 
slightly  teetering  on  heels  and  toes,  while  the  coroner 
made  a  cursory  examination  and  observed,  since  it  was 
coming  gray  daylight,  how  the  lamp  lay  shattered  just 
where  it  had  fallen  with  Estan.  He  asked,  in  bad 
Spanish,  a  few  questions  of  the  grief-worn  senora,  who 
answered  him  dully  as  she  had  answered  Starr.  She 
had  heard  the  call,  yes. 

"  You  know  Elfigo  Apodaca  ?  "  the  sheriff  asked  sud- 


238       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

denly,  and  watched  how  the  eyes  of  the  seiiora  went 
questioningly,  uneasily,  to  Luis ;  watched  how  she  hesi 
tated  hefore  she  admitted  that  she  knew  him. 

"  You  know  his  voice  ?  " 

But  the  sefiora  closed  her  thin  lips  and  shook  her 
head,  and  in  a  minute  she  laid  her  head  back  on  the 
pillow  and  closed  her  eyes  also,  and  would  talk  no  more. 

The  sheriff  chewed  and  teetered  meditatively,  his 
eyes  on  the  ground.  From  the  tail  of  his  eye  Starr 
watched  him,  secretly  willing  to  bet  that  he  knew  what 
the  sheriff  was  thinking.  When  O'Malley  turned  and 
strolled  back  to  the  porch,  his  hands  still  in  his  pockets 
and  his  eyes  still  on  the  ground  as  though  he  were 
weighing  the  matter  carefully,  Starr  stood  where  he 
was,  apparently  unaware  that  the  sheriff  had  moved. 
Starr  seemed  to  be  watching  the  coroner  curiously,  but 
he  knew  just  when  the  sheriff  passed  cat-footedly  be 
hind  him,  and  he  grinned  to  himself. 

The  sheriff  made  one  of  his  sudden  moves,  and  jerked 
the  six-shooter  from  its  holster  at  Starr's  hip,  pulled  out 
the  cylinder  pin  and  released  the  cylinder  with  its  cus 
tomary  five  loaded  chambers  and  an  empty  one  under 
the  hammer.  He  tilted  the  gun,  muzzle  to  him,  toward 
the  rising  sun  and  squinted  into  its  barrel  that  shone 
with  the  care  it  got,  save  where  particles  of  dust  had 
lodged  in  the  bore.  He  held  the  gun  close  under  his 


"IS  HE  THEN  DEAD— MY  SON?"    239 

red  nose  and  sniffed  for  the  smell  of  oil  that  would 
betray  a  fresh  cleaning.  And  Starr  watched  him  in 
terestedly,  smiling  approval. 

"All  right,  far  as  youVe  gone,"  he  said  casually, 
when  the  sheriff  was  replacing  the  cylinder  in  the  gun. 
"  If  you  want  to  go  a  step  farther,  I  reckon  mayhe  I 
can  show  you  where  I  come  down  off  the  bluff  when  I 
heard  the  shot,  and  where  I  went  back  again  after  my 
horse.  And  you'll  see,  maybe,  that  I  couldn't  shoot 
from  the  bluff  and  get  a  man  around  on  the  far  side  of 
the  house.  Won't  take  but  a  minute  to  show  yuh."  He 
gave  the  slight  head  tilt  and  the  slight  wink  of  one  eye 
which,  the  world  over,  asks  for  a  secret  conference,  and 
started  off  around  the  corner  of  the  house. 

The  sheriff  followed  noncommittally  but  he  kept 
close  at  Starr's  heels  as  though  he  suspected  that  Starr 
meant  to  disappear  somehow.  So  they  reached  the 
bluff,  which  Starr  knew  would  be  out  of  hearing  from 
the  house  so  long  as  they  did  not  speak  loudly.  He 
pointed  down  at  the  prints  of  his  boots  where  he  had 
left  the  rocks  of  the  steep  hillside  for  the  sand  of  the 
level ;  and  he  even  made  a  print  beside  the  clearest  track 
to  show  the  sheriff  that  he  had  really  come  down  there 
as  he  climbed.  But  it  was  plain  that  Starr's  mind  was 
not  on  the  matter  of  footprints. 

"  Keep  on  looking  around  here,  like  you  was  tracing 


240       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

up  my  trail/'  he  said  in  a  low  voice,  pointing  down 
ward.  "  I've  got  something  I  want  to  tell  yuh,  and  I 
want  you  to  listen  close  and  get  what  I  say,  because  I 
ain't  apt  to  repeat  it.  And  I  don't  want  that  coroner 
to  get  the  notion  we're  talking  anything  over.  That 
little  play  you  made  with  my  gun  showed  that  you've 
got  hoss  sense  and  ain't  overlooking  any  bets,  and  it 
may  be  that  I'll  have  use  for  yuh  before  long.  Now 
listen." 

The  sheriff  listened,  chewing  industriously  and  wan 
dering  about  while  Starr  talked.  His  hard  eyes 
changed  a  little,  and  twice  he  nodded  his  head  in  assent. 

"  Now  you  do  that,"  said  Starr  at  last,  with  an  air  of 
one  giving  orders.  "  And  see  to  it  that  you  get  a  hear 
ing  as  soon  as  possible.  I  can't  appear  except  as  a  wit 
ness,  uh  course,  but  I  want  a  chance  to  size  up  the  fel 
lows  that  take  the  biggest  interest  in  the  trial.  And 
keep  it  all  on  the  basis  of  a  straight  quarrel,  if  you  can. 
You'll  have  to  fix  that  up  with  the  prosecuting  attorney, 
if  you  can  trust  him  that  far." 

"  I  can,  Mr.  Starr.  He's  my  brother-in-law,  and  he's 
the  best  man  we  could  pick  in  the  county  for  what  you 
want.  I  get  you,  all  right.  There  won't  be  anything 
drop  about  what  you  just  told  me." 

"  There  better  hadn't  be  anything  drop !  "  Starr  told 
him  dryly.  "  You're  into  something  deeper  than  county 


"IS  HE  THEN  DEAD— MY  SON?"    241 

work  now,  ole-timer.  This  is  Federal  business,  re 
member.  Come  on  back  and  stall  around  some  more, 
and  let  me  go  on  about  my  own  business.  You  can  get 
word  to  me  at  the  Palacia  if  you  want  me  at  the  inquest, 
but  don't  get  friendly.  I'm  just  a  stock-buyer  that 
happened  along.  Keep  it  that  way." 

"  I  sure  will,  Mr.  Starr.  I'll  do  my  part."  The 
sheriff  relapsed  into  his  ruminative  manner  as  he  led 
the  way  back  to  the  house.  One  may  guess  that  Starr 
had  given  him  something  worth  ruminating  about. 

In  a  few  minutes,  he  told  Starr  curtly  that  he  could 
go  if  he  wanted  to ;  and  he  bettered  that  by  muttering 
to  the  coroner  that  he  had  a  notion  to  hold  the  fellow, 
but  that  he  seemed  to  have  a  pretty  clear  alibi,  and  they 
could  get  him  later  if  they  wanted  him.  To  which  the 
coroner  agreed  in  neighborly  fashion. 

Starr  was  saddling  Rabbit  for  another  long  ride,  and 
he  was  scowling  thoughtfully  while  he  did  it. 


CHAPTER  EIGHTEEN 

A    PAGE    OF    WBITING 

WIKD  came  with  the  sun  and  went  shrieking 
across  the  high  levels,  taking  with  it  clouds  of 
sand  and  bouncing  tumbleweeds  that  rolled  and  lodged 
for  a  minute  against  some  rock  or  bush  and  then  went 
whirling  on  again  in  a  fresh  gust.  Starr  had  not  rid 
den  two  miles  before  his  face  began  to  feel  the  sting 
of  gravel  in  the  sand  clouds.  His  eyes,  already  ach 
ing  with  a  day's  hard  usage  and  a  night  of  no  sleep, 
smarted  with  the  impact  of  the  wind.  lie  fumbled  at 
the  band  of  his  big,  Texas  hat  and  pulled  down  a  pair 
of  motor  goggles  and  put  them  on  distastefully.  Like 
blinders  on  a  horse  they  were,  but  he  could  not  afford 
to  face  that  wind  with  unprotected  eyes  —  not  when  so 
very  much  depended  upon  his  eyes  and  his  ears  and  the 
keenest,  coolest  faculties  of  his  mind. 

Still  worry  nagged  at  him.  He  wanted  to  know  who 
was  the  man  that  had  visited  Helen  May  so  soon  after 
he  had  left,  and  he  wanted  to  know  why  a  light  had 
shone  from  her  window  at  one  o'clock  last  night;  and 


A  PAGE  OF  WRITING  243 

whether  the  automobile  had  been  going  to  Sunlight  Ba 
sin,  or  merely  in  that  direction. 

He  hurried,  for  he  had  no  patience  with  worries  that 
concerned  Helen  May.  Besides,  he  meant  to  beg  a 
breakfast  from  her,  and  he  was  afraid  that  if  he  waited 
too  late  she  might  be  out  with  Pat  and  the  goats,  and 
he  would  have  to  waste  time  on  the  kid  (Vic  would  have 
resented  that  term  as  applied  to  himself)  who  might  be 
still  laid  up  with  his  sprained  ankle. 

He  was  not  thinking  so  much  this  morning  about  the 
knowledge  he  had  gained  in  the  night.  He  had  given 
several  quiet  hours  to  thought  upon  that  subject,  and  he 
had  his  course  pretty  clearly  defined  in  his  mind.  He 
also  had  Sheriff  O'Malley  thoroughly  coached  and  pre 
pared  to  do  his  part.  The  matter  of  Elfigo  Apodaca, 
then,  he  laid  aside  for  the  present,  and  concerned  him 
self  chiefly  with  what  on  the  surface  were  trifles,  but 
which,  taken  together,  formed  a  chain  of  disquieting 
incidents.  Rabbit  felt  his  master's  desire  for  haste, 
and  loped  steadily  along  the  trail,  dropping  now  and 
then  into  his  smooth  fox-trot,  that  was  almost  as  fast 
a  gait ;  so  it  was  still  early  morning  when  he  dropped 
reins  outside  and  rapped  on  the  closed  door. 

Helen  May  opened  the  door  cautiously,  it  seemed  to 
him ;  a  scant  six  inches  until  she  saw  who  he  was,  when 
she  cried  "  Oh !  "  in  a  surprised,  slightly  confused  tone, 


244       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

and  let  him  in.  Starr  noticed  two  things  at  the  first 
glance  he  gave  her.  The  first  was  the  blue  crocheted 
cap  which  she  wore ;  he  did  not  know  that  it  was  called 
a  breakfast-cap  and  that  it  was  very  stylish,  for  Starr, 
you  must  remember,  lived  apart  from  any  intimate  home 
life  that  would  familiarize  him  with  such  fripperies. 
The  cap  surprised  him,  but  he  liked  the  look  of  it  even 
though  he  kept  that  liking  to  himself. 

The  second  thing  he  noticed  was  that  Helen  May  was 
hiding  something  in  her  right  hand  which  was  dropped 
to  her  side.  When  she  had  let  him  in  and  turned  away 
to  offer  him  a  chair,  he  saw  that  she  had  the  pearl-han 
dled  six-shooter. 

She  disappeared  behind  a  screen,  and  came  out  with 
her  right  hand  empty,  evidently  believing  he  had  not 
seen  how  she  had  prepared  herself  for  an  emergency. 
She  had  only  yesterday  told  him  emphatically  how 
harmless  she  considered  the  country;  and  he  had  been 
careful  to  warn  her  only  about  rabid  coyotes,  so  that 
without  being  alarmed,  she  would  not  go  unarmed  away 
from  home.  It  seemed  queer  to  Starr  that  she  should 
act  as  though  she  expected  rabid  coyotes  to  come  a- 
knocking  at  her  door  in  broad  daylight.  Had  she,  he 
thought  swiftly,  been  only  pretending  that  she  consid 
ered  the  country  perfectly  safe  ? 

He  could  not  help  it;  that  six-shooter  hidden  in  the 


A  PAGE  OF  WRITING  245 

folds  of  her  skirt  stuck  in  his  mind.  It  was  just  a 
trifle,  like  her  lighted  window  at  one  o'clock  in  the  morn 
ing;  like  that  strange  man  who  had  called  on  her  just 
after  Starr  had  left  her,  and  with  whom  she  had  seemed 
to  be  on  such  friendly  terms.  He  had  warned  her  of 
coyotes.  She  was  not  supposed  to  know  that  it  was 
wise  to  arm  herself  before  she  opened  her  door  to  a 
daylight  caller.  At  night,  yes.  But  at  seven  o'clock 
in  the  morning  ?  Starr  did  not  suspect  Helen  May  of 
anything,  but  he  had  been  trained  to  suspect  mysterious 
trifles.  In  spite  of  himself,  this  trifle  nagged  at  him 
unpleasantly. 

He  fancied  that  Helen  May  was  just  a  shade  flustered 
in  her  welcome ;  just  a  shade  nervous  in  her  movements, 
in  her  laughter,  in  the  very  tones  of  her  voice. 

"  You're  out  early,"  she  said.  "  Vie  isn't  up  yet;  I 
suppose  the  goats  ought  to  be  let  out,  too.  You  couldn't 
have  had  your  breakfast  —  or  have  you  ?  One  can  ex 
pect  almost  anything  of  a  man  who  just  rides  out  of 
nowhere  at  all  hours,  and  disappears  into  nowhere." 

"  I  shore  wish  that  was  so,"  Starr  retorted  banter- 
ingly.  "  I  wish  I  had  to  ride  nowhere  to-day." 

"  Oh,  I  meant  the  mystery  of  the  unknown,"  she  hur 
ried  to  correct  herself.  "  You  come  out  of  the  desert 
just  any  old  time.  And  you  go  off  into  the  desert  just 
as  unexpectedly ;  by  the  way,  did  you  — " 


246       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

"  Nope.  I  did  not."  She  might  forget  that  Vic  was 
in  the  house,  but  Starr  never  forgot  things  of  that  sort, 
and  he  wilfully  forestalled  her  intention  to  ask  about 
the  shooting.  "  I  didn't  have  any  supper,  either,  be 
yond  a  sandwich  or  two  that  was  mostly  sand  after  I'd 
packed  ?em  around  all  day.  I  just  naturally  had  to 
turn  tramp  and  come  ask  for  a  handout,  when  I  found 
out  at  daylight  how  close  I  was  to  breakfast." 

"  Why,  of  course.  You  know  you  won't  have  to  beg 
very  hard.  I  was  just  going  to  put  on  the  coffee.  So 
you  make  yourself  at  home,  and  I'll  have  breakfast  in 
a  few  minutes.  Vic,  for  gracious  sake,  get  up !  Here's 
company  already.  And  you'll  have  to  let  out  the  goats. 
Pat  can  keep  them  together  awhile,  but  he  can't  open 
the  gate,  and  I'm  busy." 

Starr  heard  the  prodigious  yawn  of  the  awakening 
Vie,  who  slept  behind  a  screen  in  the  kitchen,  bed- 
rooms  being  a  superfluous  luxury  in  which  Johnny  Cal- 
vert  had  not  indulged  himself.  Starr  followed  her  to 
the  doorway. 

"  I'll  go  let  out  the  goats,"  he  offered.  "  I  want  to 
take  off  the  bridle  anyway,  so  Eabbit  can  feed  around 
a  little."  He  let  himself  out  into  the  whooping  wind, 
feeling,  for  some  inexplicable  reason,  depressed  when  he 
had  expected  to  feel  only  relief. 

"  Lord !     I'm  getting  to  the  point  where  anything 


A  PAGE  OF  WRITING  247 

that  ain't  accompanied  by  a  chart  and  diagrams  looks 
suspicious  to  me.  She's  got  more  hawse  sense  than  I 
gave  her  credit  for,  that's  all.  She  musta  seen  through 
my  yarnin'  about  them  mad  coyotes.  She's  pretty  cute, 
coming  to  the  door  with  her  six-gun  just  like  a  real  one ! 
And  never  letting  on  to  me  that  she  had  it  right  handy. 
I  must  be  getting  off  my  feed  or  something,  the  way  I 
take  things  wrong.  isTow  her  being  up  late  —  I'm  just 
going  to  mention  how  far  off  I  saw  her  light  burning  — 
and  how  late  it  was.  I'll  see  what  she  says  about  it." 

But  he  did  nothing  of  the  kind,  and  for  what  he  con 
sidered  a  very  good  reason.  The  wind  was  blowing  in 
eddying  gusts,  of  the  kind  that  seizes  and  whirls  things ; 
such  a  gust  swooped  into  the  room  when  he  opened  the 
door,  seized  upon  some  papers  which  lay  on  her  writ 
ing  desk,  and  sent  them  clear  across  the  room. 

Starr  hastily  closed  the  door  and  rescued  the  papers 
where  they  had  flattened  against  the  wall ;  and  he  wished 
he  had  gone  blind  before  he  saw  what  they  were.  A 
glance  was  all  he  gave,  at  first  —  the  involuntary  glance 
which  one  gives  to  a  bit  of  writing  picked  up  in  an  odd 
place  —  but  that  was  enough  to  chill  his  blood  with  the 
shock  of  damning  enlightenment.  A  page  of  writing, 
it  was,  fine,  symmetrical,  hard  to  decipher  —  a  page 
of  Holly  Sommers'  manuscript;  you  know  that,  of 
course* 


248       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

But  Starr  did  not  know.  He  only  knew  the  writing 
matched  the  pages  of  revolutionary  stuff  he  had  found 
in  the  office  of  Las  Nuevas.  There  was  no  need  of  com 
paring  the  two ;  the  writing  was  unmistakable.  And  he 
believed  that  Helen  May  was  the  writer..  He  believed 
it  when  he  glanced  up  and  saw  her  coming  in  from  the 
kitchen,  and  saw  her  eyes  go  to  what  he  had  in  his  hand, 
and  saw  the  start  she  gave  before  she  hurried  to  take 
the  paper  away. 

"  My  gracious !  My  work  — "  she  said  agitatedly, 
when  she  had  the  papers  in  her  hand.  She  went  to  her 
desk,  looking  perturbed,  and  gave  a  quick,  seeking 
glance  at  the  scattered  papers  there ;  then  at  Starr. 

"  Did  any  more  —  ?  " 

"  That's  all,"  Starr  said  gravely.  "  It  was  the  wind 
when  I  opened  the  door,  caught  them." 

"  My  own  carelessness.  I  don't  know  why  I  left  my 
desk  open,"  she  said.  And  while  he  stood  looking  at 
her,  she  pulled  down  the  roll-top  with  a  slam,  still  vis 
ibly  perturbed. 

It  was  strange,  he  thought,  that  she  should  have  a  roll- 
top  desk  out  here,  anyway.  He  had  seen  it  the  other 
time  he  was  at  the  house,  and  it  had  struck  him  then  as 
queer,  though  he  had  not  given  it  more  than  a  passing 
thought. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  was  not  queer.     Johnny  Cal- 


A  PAGE  OF  WRITING  249 

vert  had  dilated  on  the  destructiveness  of  rats,  "  pack 
rats  "  he  called  them.  They  would  chew  paper  all  to 
bits,  he  said.  So  Helen  May,  being  finicky  about  having 
her  papers  chewed,  had  brought  along  this  mouse-proof 
desk  with  her  other  furniture  from  Los  Angeles. 

Her  perturbed  manner,  too,  was  the  result  of  a  finicky 
distaste  for  having  any  disorder  in  her  papers,  espe 
cially  when  it  was  work  intrusted  to  her  professionally. 
She  never  talked  about  the  work  she  did  for  people,  and 
she  always  kept  it  away  from  the  eyes  of  those  not  con 
cerned  in  it.  That,  she  considered,  was  professional  eti 
quette.  She  had  strained  a  point  when  she  had  read  a 
little  of  the  manuscript  to  Vic.  Vic  was  just  a  kid,  and 
he  was  her  brother,  and  he  wouldn't  understand  what 
she  read  any  more  than  would  the  horned  toad  down  by 
the  spring.  But  Starr  was  different,  and  she  felt  that 
she  had  been  terribly  careless  and  unprofessional,  leav 
ing  the  manuscript  where  pages  could  blow  around  the 
room.  What  if  a  page  had  blown  outside  and  got  lost ! 

Starr  had  turned  his  back  and  was  staring  out  of  the 
window.  He  might  have  been  staring  at  a  blank  wall, 
for  all  he  saw  through  the  glass.  He  was  as  pale  as 
though  he  had  just  received  some  great  physical  shock, 
and  he  had  his  hands  doubled  up  into  fists,  so  that  his 
knuckles  were  white.  His  eyes  were  almost  gray  in 
stead  of  hazel,  and  they  were  hard  and  hurt-looking. 


250       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

Something  in  the  set  of  his  head  and  in  the  way  his 
shoulders  had  stiffened  told  Helen  May  that  things  had 
gone  wrong  just  in  the  last  few  minutes.  She  gave  him 
a  second  questioning  glance,  felt  her  heart  go  heavy 
while  her  brain  seemed  suddenly  blank,  and  retreated  to 
the  kitchen. 

Helen  May,  influenced  it  may  be  by  Starr's  anxious 
thoughts  of  her,  had  dreamed  of  him ;  one  of  those  vivid, 
intimate  dreams  that  color  our  moods  and  our  thoughts 
long  after  we  awaken.  She  had  dreamed  of  being  with 
him  in  the  moonlight  again ;  and  Starr  had  sung  again 
the  love  song  of  the  desert,  and  had  afterwards  taken  her 
in  his  arms  and  held  her  close,  and  kissed  her  twice 
lingeringly,  looking  deep  into  her  eyes  afterwards. 

She  had  awakened  with  the  thrill  of  those  kisses  still 
tingling  her  lips,  so  that  she  had  covered  her  face  with 
both  hands  in  a  sort  of  shamed  joy  that  dreams  could  be 
so  terribly  real  —  so  terribly  sweet,  too.  And  then,  not 
fifteen  minutes  after  she  awoke,  and  while  the  dream  yet 
clogged  her  reason,  Starr  himself  had  confronted  her 
when  she  opened  the  door.  She  would  have  been  a  re 
markable  young  woman  if  she  had  not  been  flustered  and 
nervous  and  inclined  toward  incoherent  speech. 

And  now,  it  was  perfectly  idiotic  to  judge  a  man's 
temper  by  the  back  of  his  neck,  she  told  herself  fiercely 
in  the  kitchen ;  perfectly  idiotic,  yet  she  did  it.  She  was 


A  PAGE  OF  WRITING          251 

impressed  with  his  displeasure,  his  bitterness,  with  some 
change  in  him  which  she  could  not  define  to  herself. 
She  wanted  to  cry,  and  she  did  not  in  the  least  know 
what  there  could  possibly  be  to  cry  about. 

Vic  appeared,  tousled  and  yawning  and  stupid  as  an 
owl  in  the  sun.  He  growled  because  the  water  bucket 
was  empty  and  he  must  go  to  the  spring,  and  he  irritated 
Helen  May  to  the  point  of  wanting  to  shake  him,  when 
he  went  limping  down  the  path.  She  even  called  out 
sharply  that  he  was  limping  with  the  wrong  foot,  and 
that  he  ought  to  tie  a  string  around  his  lame  ankle  so 
he  could  remember  which  one  it  was.  Which  made  her 
feel  more  disagreeable  than  ever,  because  Vic  really  did 
have  a  bad  ankle,  as  the  swelling  had  proven  when  he 
went  to  bed  last  night, 

Kothing  seemed  to  go  right,  after  that.  She  scorched 
the  bacon,  and  she  caught  her  sleeve  on  the  handle  of  the 
coffee  pot  and  spilled  about  half  the  coffee,  besides  burn 
ing  her  wrist  to  a  blister.  She  broke  a  cup,  but  that 
had  been  cracked  when  she  came,  and  at  any  other  time 
she  would  not  have  been  surprised  at  all,  or  jarred  out 
of  her  calm.  She  took  out  the  muffins  she  had  hurried 
to  make  for  Starr,  and  they  stuck  to  the  tins  and  came 
out  in  ragged  pieces,  which  is  enough  to  drive  any 
woman  desperate,  I  suppose.  Vic  slopped  water  on 
the  floor  when  he  came  back  with  the  bucket  full,  and 


252       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

the  wind  swooped  a  lot  of  sand  into  the  kitchen,  and 
she  was  certain  the  bacon  would  be  gritty  as  well  as 
burned. 

Of  Starr  she  had  not  heard  a  sound,  and  she  went  to 
the  door  nervously  to  call  him  when  breakfast  was  at 
last  on  the  table.  He  was  standing  exactly  as  he  had 
stood  when  she  left  the  room.  So  far  as  she  could  see, 
he  had  not  moved  a  muscle  or  turned  his  head  or 
winked  an  eyelid.  II is  stoniness  chilled  her  so  that  it 
was  an  effort  to  form  words  to  tell  him  that  breakfast 
was  ready. 

There  was  an  instant's  pause  before  he  turned,  and 
Helen  May  felt  that  he  had  almost  decided  not  to  eat. 
But  he  followed  her  to  the  kitchen  and  spoke  to  Vic 
quite  humanly,  as  he  took  the  chair  she  offered,  and 
unfolded  the  napkin  that  struck  an  odd  note  of  refine 
ment  among  its  makeshift  surroundings;  for  the  stove 
had  only  two  real  legs,  the  other  two  corners  being 
propped  up  on  rocks;  the  dish  cupboard  was  of  boxes, 
and  everything  in  the  way  of  food  supplies  stood 
scantily  hidden  behind  thin  curtains  of  white  dotted 
swiss  that  Helen  May  had  brought  with  her. 

An  hour  ago  Starr  would  have  dwelt  gloatingly  upon 
these  graceful  evidences  of  Helen  May's  brave  fight 
against  the  crudities  of  her  surroundings.  Now  they 
gave  him  a  keener  thrust  of  pain.  So  did  the  tremble 


A  PAGE  OF  WRITING  253 

of  her  hand  when  Helen  May  poured  his  coffee;  it  be 
trayed  to  Starr  her  guilty  fear  that  he  had  seen  what 
was  on  those  two  papers.  He  glanced  up  at  her  face, 
and  caught  her  own  troubled  glance  just  flicking  away 
from  him.  She  was  scared,  then!  he  told  himself. 
She  was  watching  to  see  if  he  had  read  anything  that 
seemed  suspicious.  Well,  he'd  have  to  calm  her  down 
a  little,  just  as  a  matter  of  policy.  He  couldn't  let 
her  tip  him  off  to  the  bunch,  whatever  happened. 

Starr  smiled.  "  I  sure  feel  like  I'm  imposing  on 
good  nature,"  he  said,  looking  at  her  again  with  care 
ful  friendliness.  "  Coming  here  begging  for  break 
fast,  and  now  when  you've  gone  to  the  trouble  of  cook 
ing  it,  I've  got  one  of  my  pet  headaches  that  won't  let 
me  enjoy  anything.  Hits  me  that  way  sometimes 
when  I've  had  an  extra  long  ride.  But  I  sure  wish  it 
had  waited  awhile." 

Helen  May  gave  him  a  quick,  hopeful  smile.  "  I 
have  some  awfully  good  tablets,"  she  said.  "  Wait  till 
I  give  you  one,  before  you  eat.  My  doctor  gave  me  a 
supply  before  I  left  home,  because  I  have  headache  so 
much  —  or  did  have.  I'm  getting  much  better,  out 
here!  I've  hardly  felt  like  the  same  person,  the  last 
two  or  three  weeks." 

"  You  have  got  to  show  me  where  you're  any  better 
acting,"  Vic  pointed  out,  with  the  merciless  candor  of 


254       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

beauty's  young  brother.  "  It  sure  ain't  your  disposi 
tion  that's  improved,  I  can  tell  you  those." 

"  And  with  those  few  remarks  you  can  close,"  Helen 
May  retorted  gleefully,  hurrying  off  to  get  the  head 
ache  tablet.  It  was  just  a  headache,  poor  fellow !  He 
wasn't  peeved  at  all,  and  nothing  was  wrong! 

It  was  astonishing  how  her  mood  had  lightened  in 
the  past  two  minutes.  She  got  him  a  glass  of  water 
to  help  the  tablet  down  his  throat,  and  stood  close  be 
side  him  while  he  swallowed  it  and  thanked  her,  and 
began  to  make  some  show  of  eating  his  breakfast. 
She  was,  in  fact,  the  same  whimsically  charming  Helen 
May  he  had  come  to  care  a  great  deal  for. 

That  made  things  harder  than  ever  for  Starr.  If 
the  tablet  had  been  prescribed  for  heartache  rather 
than  headache,  Starr  would  have  swallowed  thankfully 
the  dose.  The  murder,  over  against  the  other  line  of 
hills,  had  not  seemed  to  him  so  terrible  as  those  sheets 
of  scribbled  paper  locked  away  inside  Helen  May's 
desk.  The  grief  of  Estan's  mother  over  her  dead  son 
was  no  more  bitter  than  was  Starr's  grief  at  what  he 
believed  was  true  of  Helen  May.  Indeed,  Starr's  trou 
ble  was  greater,  because  he  must  mask  it  with  a  smile. 

All  through  breakfast  he  talked  with  her,  looked  into 
her  eyes,  smiled  at  her  across  the  table.  But  he  was 
white  under  his  tan.  She  thought  that  was  from  his 


A  PAGE  OF  WRITING  255 

headache,  and  was  kinder  than  she  meant  to  be  be 
cause  of  it;  perhaps  because  of  her  dream  too,  though 
she  was  not  conscious  of  any  change  in  her  manner. 

Starr  could  have  cursed  her  for  that  change,  which 
he  believed  was  a  sly  attempt  to  win  him  over  and 
make  him  forget  anything  he  may  have  read  on  those 
pages.  He  would  not  think  of  it  then;  time  enough 
when  he  was  away  and  need  not  pretend  or  set  a  guard 
over  his  features  and  his  tongue.  The  hurt  was  there, 
the  great,  incredible,  soul-searing  hurt;  but  he  would 
not  dwell  upon  what  had  caused  that  hurt.  He  forced 
himself  to  talk  and  to  laugh  now  and  then,  but  after 
wards  he  could  not  remember  what  they  had  talked 
about. 

As  soon  as  he  decently  could,  he  went  away  again 
into  the  howling  wind  that  had  done  him  so  ill  a  turn. 
He  did  not  know  what  he  should  do;  this  discovery 
that  Helen  May  was  implicated  had  set  him  all  at  sea, 
but  he  felt  that  he  must  get  away  somewhere  and  think 
the  whole  thing  out  before  he  went  crazy. 

He  left  the  Basin,  rode  around  behind  it  and,  leav 
ing  Rabbit  in  the  thicket  where  he  had  left  him  the 
day  before,  he  toiled  up  the  pinnacle  and  sat  down  in 
the  shelter  of  a  boulder  pile  where  he  would  be  out 
of  the  wind  as  well  as  out  of  sight,  and  where  he  could 
still  stare  somberly  down  at  the  cabin. 


256       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

And  there  he  faced  his  trouble  bravely,  and  at  the 
same  time  he  fulfilled  his  duty  toward  his  government 
by  keeping  a  watch  over  the  place  that  seemed  to  him 
then  the  most  suspicious  place  in  the  country.  The 
office  of  Las  Nuevas,  even,  was  not  more  so?  as  Starr 
saw  things  then.  For  if  Las  Nuevas  were  the  dis 
tributing  point  for  the  propaganda  literature,  this  cabin 
of  Helen  May's  seemed  to  be  the  fountain  head. 

First  of  all,  and  going  back  to  the  beginning,  how 
did  he  really  know  that  her  story  was  true  ?  How,  for 
instance,  did  he  know  that  her  father  had  not  been  one 
of  the  heads  of  the  conspiracy?  How  did  he  know 
that  her  father  —  it  might  even  be  her  husband !  — 
was  dead  ?  He  had  simply  accepted  her  word,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  because  she  was  a  young  woman,  and 
more  attractive  than  the  average  young  woman.  Starr 
was  terribly  bitter,  at  that  point  in  his  reasoning,  and 
even  felt  certain  that  he  hated  all  women.  Well,  then, 
her  reason  for  being  in  the  neighborhood  would  bear 
a  lot  of  looking  into. 

Then  there  was  that  automobile  that  had  passed  where 
he  had  found  her  and  her  goats,  that  evening.  Was 
it  plausible,  he  asked  himself,  that  she  had  actually 
walked  over  there?  The  machine  had  returned  along 
the  same  trail,  running  by  moonlight  with  its  lights 
out.  Might  it  not  have  been  coming  to  pick  her  up? 


A  PAGE  OF  WRITING  257 

Only  he  had  happened  along,  and  she  had  let  him  walk 
home  with  her,  probably  to  keep  him  where  she  could 
watch  him! 

There  was  that  shot  at  him  from  the  pinnacle  behind 
her  cabin.  There  was  her  evident  familiarity  with 
firearms,  though  she  professed  not  to  own  a  gun. 
There  was  the  man  who  had  been  down  there  with  her, 
not  more  than  an  hour  after  he  had  left  her  with  a 
bullet  burn  across  his  arm.  Starr  saw  now  how  that 
close  conversation  might  easily  have  been  a  conference 
between  her  and  the  man  who  had  shot  at  him. 

There  was  the  light  in  her  window  at  one  o'clock 
in  the  morning,  and  the  machine  with  dimmed  head 
lights  making  toward  her  place.  There  was  her  evi 
dent  caution  against  undesirable  callers,  her  coming  to 
the  door  with  a  six-shooter  hidden  against  her  skirt. 
There  was  that  handwriting,  to  which  Starr  would  un 
hesitatingly  have  sworn  as  being  the  same  as  on  the 
pages  he  had  found  in  the  office  of  Las  Nuevas.  The 
writing  was  unmistakable:  fine,  even,  symmetrical  as 
print,  yet  hard  to  decipher;  slanting  a  little  to  the  left 
instead  of  the  right.  He  had  studied  too  often  the 
pages  in  his  pocket  not  to  recognize  it  at  a  glance. 

Most  damning  evidence  of  all  the  evidence  against 
her  were  two  or  three  words  which  his  eyes  had  picked 
from  the  context  on  the  page  uppermost  in  his  hand. 


258       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

He  had  become  familiar  with  those  words,  written  in 
that  peculiar  chirography.  "  Justice  .  .  .  submission 
.  .  .  ruling  .  .  ."  He  had  caught  them  at  a  glance, 
though  he  did  not  know  how  they  were  connected,  or 
what  relation  they  bore  to  the  general  theme.  Po 
litical  bunk,  his  mind  tagged  it  therefore,  and  had  no 
doubt  whatever  that  he  was  right. 

"  She's  got  brown  eyes  and  blond  hair,  and  that 
looks  like  mixed  blood/'  he  reminded  himself  suddenly, 
after  he  had  sat  for  a  long  while  staring  down  at  the 
house.  "  How  do  I  know  her  folks  aren't  Spanish  or 
something?  How  do  I  know  anything  about  her?  I 
just  swallowed  what  she  handed  out  —  like  a  damn' 
fool!" 

Just  after  noon,  when  the  wind  had  shown  some 
sign  of  dying  down  to  a  more  reasonable  blow,  Helen 
May  came  forth  in  her  riding  skirt  and  a  Tarn  o' 
Shanter  cap  and  a  sweater,  with  a  package  under  her 
arm  —  a  package  of  manuscript  which  she  had  worked 
late  to  finish  and  was  now  going  to  deliver. 

She  got  the  pinto  pony  which  Vic  had  just  ridden 
sulkily  down  to  the  corral  and  left  for  her,  and  she 
rode  away  down  the  trail,  jolting  a  good  deal  in  the 
saddle  when  the  pinto  trotted  a  few  steps,  but  appar 
ently  well  pleased  with  herself. 

Starr  watched  until  she  turned  into  the  main  trail 


A  PAGE  OF  WRITING  259 

that  led  toward  San  Bonito.  Then,  when  he  was  rea 
sonably  sure  of  the  direction  she  meant  to  take,  he 
hurried  down  to  where  Eabbit  waited,  mounted  that 
long-suffering  animal  and  followed,  using  short  cuts 
and  deep  washes  that  would  hide  him  from  sight,  but 
keeping  Helen  May  in  view  most  of  the  time  for  all 
that. 


CHAPTER  NINETEEN 

HOLMAN    SOMMERS    TUKNS    PROPHET 

HOLMAJST  SOMMER'S,  clad  outwardly  in  old 
wool  trousers  of  a  dingy  gray,  a  faded  brown 
smoking  jacket  that  had  shrunk  in  many  washings 
until  it  was  three  inches  too  short  in  the  sleeves,  and 
old  brown  slippers,  sat  tilted  back  in  a  kitchen  chair 
against  the  wall  of  his  house  and  smoked  a  beautifully 
colored  meerschaum  with  solid  gold  bands  and  a  fine 
amber  mouthpiece,  while  he  conferred  comfortably  with 
one  Elfigo  Apodaca. 

There  was  no  quizzical  twinkle  in  the  eyes  of  Hoi- 
man  Sommers,  vividly  alive  though  they  were  always. 
With  his  low  slipper  heels  hooked  over  the  rung  of  his 
chair  and  his  right  hand  nursing  the  bowl  of  his  pipe 
and  his  black  hair  rumpled  in  the  wind,  he  was  staring 
at  the  granite  ridge  somberly. 

"  I  am  indeed  sorry  to  hear  that  Estan  Medina  was 
shot,"  he  said  after  a  pause.  "  Even  in  the  interests 
of  the  Cause  it  was  absolutely  unjustifiable.  The  man 
could  do  no  harm;  indeed,  he  served  to  divert  sus 
picion  from  others.  Only  crass  stupidity  would  resort 


SOMMERS  TURNS  PROPHET     261 

to  brute  violence  in  the  effort  to  further  propaganda. 
Laying  aside  the  human — " 

"  Of  course,"  Elfigo  interrupted  sarcastically, 
^  there's  nothing  violent  in  a  revolution !  Where  do 
you  get  your  argument  for  gentleness,  Holly?  That's 
what  bothers  me.  You  can  stir  up  a  bunch  of  Mexi 
cans  quicker  than  a  barrel  of  mezcal  with  your  revolu 
tion  talks." 

"  Ah,  but  you  do  not  take  into  account  the  great, 
fundamental  truth  that  cooperative  effort,  on  the  part 
of  the  proletariat,  is  wholly  justifiable,  in  that  it  fur 
thers  the  good  of  all  humanity.  Whereas  violence  on 
the  part  of  the  individual  merely  retards  the  final  re 
sult  for  which  we  are  striving.  The  murder  of  Estan 
Medina,  for  instance,  may  be  the  one  display  of  indi 
vidual  violence  which  will  nullify  all  our  efforts  to 
ward  a  common  good. 

"  For  myself,  I  am  bending  every  energy  toward 
the  formation  of  a  cooperative  colony  which  will  demon 
strate  the  feasibility  of  a  cooperative  form  of  govern 
ment  for  the  whole  nation  —  the  whole  world,  in  fact. 
Your  Junta  has  pledged  itself  to  the  assistance  of  this 
colony,  the  incalculable  benefits  of  which  will,  I  verily 
believe,  be  the  very  salvation  of  Mexico  as  a  nation. 
Mexico,  now  in  the  throes  of  national  parturition,  is 
logically  the  pioneer  in  the  true  socialistic  form  of 


262       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

government.  From  Mexico  the  seed  will  be  carried 
overseas  to  drop  upon  soil  made  fertile  by  the  bones  of 
those  sacrificed  to  the  blood-lust  of  the  war-mad  lords 
of  Europe. 

"  Here,  in  this  little  corner  of  the  world,  is  where 
the  first  tiny  plant  must  be  grown.  Can  you  not  grasp, 
then,  the  tremendous  significance  of  what,  on  the  face 
of  it,  is  the  pitifully  small  attempt  of  a  pitifully  weak 
people  to  strike  a  feeble  blow  for  the  freedom  of  labor  ? 
To  frustrate  that  feeble  blow  now,  by  the  irresponsible, 
lawless  murder  of  a  good  citizen,  merely  because  he 
failed  at  first  to  grasp  the  meaning  of  the  lesson  placed 
before  him  to  learn,  is,  to  my  way  of  thinking,  not 
only  unjustifiable  but  damnably  weak  and  reprehen 
sible." 

Elfigo  Apodaca,  in  another  kitchen  chair  tilted  back 
against  an  angle  of  the  wall  so  that  he  half  faced  IIol- 
man  Sommers,  stretched  out  his  legs  and  smiled  toler 
antly.  A  big,  good-looking,  thoroughly  Americanized 
Mexican  was  Elfigo ;  the  type  of  man  who  may  be  found 
at  sunrise  whipping  the  best  stream  in  the  State,  the 
first  morning  of  the  trout  season;  the  type  of  man 
whose  machine  noses  in  the  closest  to  the  judge's  stand 
when  a  big  race  is  on ;  the  type  of  man  who  dances 
most,  collects  the  most  picture  postals  of  pretty  girls, 
laughs  most  at  after-dinner  speeches;  the  type  of  man 


SOMMERS  TURNS  PROPHET    263 

who  either  does  not  marry  at  all,  or  attains  much  no 
toriety  when  the  question  of  alimony  is  heing  fought 
out  to  the  last  cipher;  the  last  man  you  would  point 
out  as  a  possible  conspirator  against  anything  save  the 
peace  and  dignity  of  some  other  man's  home.  But  it 
takes  money  to  be  all  of  these  things,  and  Elfigo  could 
see  a  million  or  two  ahead  of  him  along  the  revolution 
trail.  That  is  why  he  smiled  tolerantly  upon  his  col 
league  who  talked  of  humanity  instead  of  dollars. 

Then  Elfigo  harked  back  f  rowningly  to  what  Holman 
Sommers  had  said  about  feebleness.  He  rolled  his 
cigar  from  the  right  corner  of  his  mouth  to  the  left 
corner  and  spoke  his  thought. 

"  Speaking  of  feeble  blow,  and  all  that  bunk,"  he 
said  irreverently,  "  how  do  we  stand,  Holly  ?  Just 
between  you  and  me  as  men  —  cut  out  any  interest  we 
may  have  in  the  game  —  what's  your  honest  opinion? 
Do  we  win  ? J> 

Holman  Sommers  raised  one  hand  and  hid  the 
amused  twitching  of  his  lips.  He  could  have  put  that 
question  far  more  clearly,  he  believed,  and  he  could 
have  expressed  much  better  the  thought  that  was  in 
Elfigo's  mind.  He  had  deliberately  baited  Elfigo,  and 
it  amused  him  to  see  how  blindly  the  bait  had  been 
taken.  He  regarded  Elfigo  through  half  closed  lids. 

"  As  a  matter  of  fact,  and  speaking  relatively,  every 


264       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

concerted  revolt  on  the  part  of  the  proletariat  is  a  vic 
tory.  Though  every  leader  in  the  movement  be  placed 
with  his  back  against  a  stone  wall,  there  to  stand  until 
he  falls  to  the  earth  riddled  with  bullets,  yet  have  the 
people  won ;  a  step  nearer  the  goal,  one  more  page  writ 
in  the  glowing  history  of  the  advancement  of  the  hu 
man  race  toward  a  true  brotherhood  of  man.  There 
can  be  no  end  save  ultimate  victory.  That  the  victory 
may  not  be  apparent  for  fifty  years,  or  a  hundred, 
cannot  in  any  sense  alter  the  immutable  law  of  evolu 
tion.  Posterity  will  point  back  to  this  present  upris 
ing  as  the  first  real  blow  struck  for  the  freedom  of  the 
laboring  classes  of  Mexico,  and,  indirectly,  of  the  whole 
world." 

Elfigo,  his  thumbs  hooked  in  the  armholes  of  his  vest, 
mark  of  the  dominant  note  in  the  human  male  since 
clothes  were  invented  to  furnish  armholes  for  egotistic 
thumbs,  contemplated  his  polished  tan  shoes  dissatis- 
fiedly. 

"  Oh,  to  hell  with  posterity !  "  he  blurted  impatiently. 
"  What  about  us  poor  devils  that's  furnishing  the  time 
and  money  and  brains  to  put  it  over  ?  Do  we  get  lined 
up  against  a  wall  ?  " 

Holly  Sommers  chuckled.  "  Not  if  your  car  can 
put  you  across  the  line  soon  enough.  Then,  even 
though  Mexico  might  be  called  upon  to  execute  one 


SOMMERS  TURNS  PROPHET    265 

Elfigo  Apodaca  as  an  example  to  the  souls  in  bondage, 
some  other  bullet-riddled  cadaver  with  your  name  and 
physical  likeness  would  do  as  well  as  your  own  car 
cass."  He  chuckled  again. 

"  Cheerful  prospect/7  grinned  Elfigo  ruefully. 
"  But  I  like  a  sporting  chance,  myself.  The  real  point 
Fm  trying  to  get  at  is,  what  chance  do  you  think  the 
Alliance  has  got  of  winning?  Come  down  outa  the 
clouds,  Holly,  and  never  mind  about  humanity  for  a 
minute.  You've  helped  organize  the  Alliance,  you've 
talked  to  the  hombres,  you've  been  the  god  in  the  ma 
chine  in  this  part  of  the  country,  and  all  that.  Now 
be  a  prophet  in  words  of  one  syllable  and  tell  me  what 
you  think  of  the  outlook." 

With  his  fingers  Holly  Sommers  packed  the  tobacco 
down  into  the  bowl  of  his  pipe.  His  whole  expression 
changed  from  the  philosopher  to  the  cunning  leader  of 
what  might  well  be  called  a  forlorn  hope. 

"  Speaking  in  words  of  one  syllable,  we  have  a  damn 
better  chance  than  you  may  think,"  he  said,  in  a  tone 
as  changed  as  his  looks.  "  This  country  lies  wide  open 
to  any  attack  that  is  sudden  and  unexpected.  Labor 
is  in  a  state  of  ferment.  I  predict  that  within  a  year 
we  shall  find  ourselves  upon  the  brink  of  a  civil  war, 
with  labor  and  capital  lined  up  against  each  other. 
Unless  the  government  takes  some  definite  step  toward 


266       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

placating  organized  labor,  the  whole  standing  army  will 
not  be  sufficient  to  keep  the  peace.  That  is  the  present 
internal  condition,  and  that  condition  will  grow  worse 
until  we  face  the  real  crisis  of  a  national  strike  of  some 
sort  —  I  believe  of  the  railroad  employees,  since  that 
is  the  most  far-reaching  and  would  prove  the  most  dis 
astrous —  therefore  the  most  terrifying  to  the  ruling 
class. 

"On  the  other  hand,  and  turning  our  faces  outward, 
we  are  not  much  better  prepared  for  an  emergency. 
We  are  a  conceited  nation,  but  insufferable  national 
conceit  never  yet  won  a  battle.  We  are  given  to  shout 
ing  rather  than  shooting.  Americanism  to-day  consists 
chiefly  of  standing  up  while  the  Star  Spangled  Banner 
is  being  played  by  a  brass  band,  and  of  shooting  off 
rockets  on  our  national  holiday.  Were  I  of  the  cap 
italist  class,  I  should  consider  the  situation  desperate. 
But  being  allied  with  the  workers,  I  can  laugh. 

"  Speaking  still  in  words  of  one  syllable,  Elfigo,  I 
can  safely  prophesy  what  will  happen  first  when  the 
Alliance  begins  its  active  campaign.  Scarehead  news 
in  extra  editions  will  be  printed.  The  uprising  will 
be  greatly  exaggerated,  I  have  no  doubt.  Women  and 
children  will  be  reported  massacred,  whereas  the  Al 
liance  has  no  intention  of  being  more  barbarous  than 
any  warfare  necessitates.  Then  there  will  be  a  great 


SOMMERS  TURNS  PROPHET    267 

buzzing  of  leagues  and  clubs;  and  the  citizens  will 
march  up  and  down  the  business  section  of  every  town, 
bearing  banners  and  shouting  for  the  f  dear  old  flag.' 
Women  will  rise  up  and  sell  sofa  pillows  and  doilies 
to  raise  money  to  buy  chewing  gum  for  our  soldier 
boys.  That,  Elfigo,  will  sufficiently  occupy  the  masses 
for  a  week  or  two. 

"  Going  higher,  red  tape  will  begin  to  unroll  and 
entwine  the  heads  of  departments,  and  every  man  who 
has  any  authority  whatever  will  wait  for  orders  from 
some  one  higher  up.  Therefore,  while  the  whole  na 
tion  cheers  the  street  parades  and  the  flags  and  the  sol 
dier  boys  and  everything  else  in  sight,  the  Alliance  will 
be  getting  under  way — " 

"  We'll  throw  her  into  high  and  step  on  her !  "  El 
figo  contributed,  being  a  motor  enthusiast. 

"  Something  like  that,  yes.  When  you  consider  that 
the  transportation  of  troops  to  quell  the  uprising  will 
require  anywhere  from  three  days  to  three  weeks,  I 
am  counting  red  tape  and  all,  you  will  readily  appre 
hend  how  much  may  be  accomplished  before  they  are 
in  a  position  to  handle  the  situation. 

"  On  the  other  hand,  Mexico  is  filled  with  fighters. 
So  much  has  oppression  done  for  the  peon;  it  has 
taught  him  the  business  of  fighting.  Now,  I  grant 
you,  she  is  a  nation  composed  of  warring  factions  topped 


268       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

by  a  lamentably  weak  provisional  government.  But 
with,  practically  every  Spanish- American  over  here  ac 
tually  participating  in  a  movement  for  Mexico,  all  those 
various  factions  will  coalesce,  as  tiny  brooklets  flow 
together  to  form  the  mighty  torrent." 

"  Still,  she's  a  big  country  to  lick,"  Elfigo  pointed 
out,  chiefly  to  see  what  Holly  would  say. 

"Ah,  but  Mexico  does  not  comprehend  that  fact! 
And,  in  the  same  breath,  neither  does  this  country,  as 
a  whole,  comprehend  how  big  a  country  is  Mexico  to 
lick!  Give  a  Mexican  soldado  a  handful  of  beans  a 
day  and  something  to  shout  Viva  for,  and  he  can  and 
will  fight  indefinitely.  If  I  mistake  not,  it  will  shortly 
behoove  this  country  to  temporize,  to  make  certain  con 
cessions.  Whether  those  concessions  extend  so  far  as 
to  cede  these  three  States  back  to  Mexico,  I  cannot 
hazard  a  prediction.  I  can  see,  however,  where  it  is 
not  at  all  improbable  that  !N"ew  Mexico  and  Arizona 
may  be  considered  too  costly  to  hold.  Texas,"  he 
smiled,  "  Texas  remembers  too  vividly  her  Alamo. 
Mexico,  if  she  is  wise,  does  not  want  Texas." 

"  I  heard  yesterday  there's  some  talk  amongst  the 
Americans  about  organizing  home  guards.  We  can't 
stand  another  postponement,  Holly ;  it  might  give  them 
time  to  pull  off  something  like  that.  Little  Luis  Me 
dina  told  me  he  heard  a  target  marker  for  the  San 


SOMMERS  TURNS  PROPHET     269 

Bonito  rifle  club  say  something  about  it.  He  heard 
the  members  talking.  You  know  they're  using  gov 
ernment  rifles  and  ammunition.  It  would  be  a  hell 
of  a  note  to  put  things  off  till  every  town  had  a  home 
guard  organized." 

"  I  can  see  no  necessity  for  putting  things  off/'  said 
Holly  calmly.  "  So  far  as  I  can  learn,  we  are  prac 
tically  ready,  over  here.  Ah !  Here  comes  our  charm 
ing  neighbor  from  Sunlight  Basin.  Perhaps,  Elfigo, 
it  would  be  as  well  for  you  to  disappear  from  the 
premises." 

"  Oh,  I  want  to  meet  her,"  Elfigo  smiled  easily. 
"It'll  be  all  right;  I  just  came  after  water  for  my 
radiator,  anyway.  She's  dry  as  a  bone.  I  opened  the 
drain  cock  and  let  her  drain  off  and  stood  a  fine  chance 
of  freezing  my  engine  too,  before  I  got  on  past  the 
puddle  far  enough  to  be  safe !  " 

"  It  was,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  a  very  grave  mistake 
to  come  here  at  all,"  Holly  told  him  with  a  courteous 
kind  of  severity.  "  I  fear  you  greatly  underestimate 
the  absolute  necessity  for  extreme  caution.  The  mere 
fact  that  we  have  thus  far  elicited  nothing  more  than 
a  vague  curiosity  on  the  part  of  the  government,  does 
not  excuse  any  imprudence  now.  Rather,  it  intensi 
fies  the  need  for  caution.  For  myself — " 

"  Oh,  anybody  is  liable  to  run  dry,  out  here  on  the 


270       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

desert,  Holly.  If  all  the  Secret  Service  men  in  the 
country,  and  I  know  of  one  or  two  that's  been  nosing 
around,  were  to  come  and  find  me  here,  they  couldn't 
say  I  hadn't  a  good,  legitimate  reason  for  coming.  I 
had  to  come.  I  didn't  want  to  run  on  to  any  one  from 
that  inquest,  and  I  had  to  see  you.  I  wanted  to  put 
you  wise  to  the  stand  we're  taking  on  the  Estan  Medina 
affair.  We  can't  help  it  that  somebody  bumped  him 
off,  but—" 

"  You  can  fill  your  water  bag  at  the  well,  since  that 
is  what  you  came  for ;  and  I  should  strongly  advise  you 
to  terminate  your  visit  as  soon  as  it  is  consistent  with 
your  errand  to  do  so." 

"  Oh,  don't  crab  my  meeting  a  pretty  girl,  Holly ! 
Introduce  me,  and  I'll  take  the  water  and  go.  Be  a 
sport !  "  Elfigo  had  picked  up  his  five-gallon  desert 
bag,  but  he  was  obviously  waiting  for  Helen  May  to 
ride  up  to  the  house. 

To  Starr,  crouched  behind  on  a  rock  on  the  ridge 
that  divided  the  Sommers  place  from  the  hidden  ar- 
royo  where  he  had  first  seen  trace  of  the  automobile, 
Elfigo's  attitude  of  waiting  for  Helen  May  was  too 
obvious  to  question.  A  little,  weakling  offspring  of 
Hope  died  then  in  his  heart.  He  had  tried  so  hard  to 
find  some  excuse  for  Helen  May,  and  he  had  almost 
succeeded.  But  his  glasses  were  too  strong;  they  iden- 


SOMMERS  TURNS  PROPHET    271 

tified  Elfigo  Apodaca  too  clearly  for  any  doubt.  They 
were  too  merciless  in  showing  Starr  that  beside  Elfigo 
stood  the  man  who  had  visited  Helen  May  the  day 
before. 

Eecognition  of  the  man  came  with  something  of  a 
shock  to  Starr.  He  had  heard  of  Holman  Sommers 
often  enough,  though  he  had  never  seen  him.  He  had 
heard  him  described  as  a  "  highbrow  "  who  wrote  sci 
entific  articles,  sometimes  published  in  obscure  maga 
zines,  read  by  few  and  understood  by  none.  A  recluse 
student,  he  had  been  described  to  Starr,  who  knew 
Todd  Sommers  by  sight,  and  who  had  tagged  the  family 
as  being  too  American  for  any  suspicion  to  point  their 
way. 

As  often  happens,  Starr  had  formed  a  mental  picture 
of  Holman  Sommers  which  was  really  the  picture  of  a 
type  made  familiar  to  us  mostly  by  our  humorists.  He 
had  imagined  that  Holman  Sommers,  being  a  "  high 
brow,"  was  a  little,  dried-up  man  with  a  bald  head 
and  weak  eyes  that  made  spectacles  a  part  of  his  face ; 
an  insignificant  little  man  well  past  middle  life,  with 
a  gray  beard,  Starr  saw  him  mentally.  He  should 
have  known  better  than  to  let  his  imagination  paint 
him  a  portrait  of  any  man,  in  those  ticklish  times. 
But  they  were  Americans,  which  was  disarming  in  it 
self.  And  the  plump  sister,  who  had  talked  for  ten 


272       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

minutes  with  Starr  when  he  called  at  the  ranch  one 
day  to  see  if  they  had  any  stock  they  wanted  to  sell, 
had  further  helped  to  ward  off  any  suspicion. 

Now  that  he  knew,  hy  the  smoking  jacket  and  the 
slippers  and  the  uncovered  thatch  of  jet-black  hair, 
that  this  man  must  he  Holman  Sommers ;  when  he  saw 
Elfigo  Apodaca  there,  seated  and  talking  earnestly  with 
him,  as  he  could  tell  hy  the  gestures  with  which  they 
elaborated  their  speech;  when  he  saw  Helen  May  rid 
ing  in  to  the  ranch,  he  had  before  him  all  the  outward, 
visible  evidence  of  a  conference.  The  only  false  note, 
to  Starr's  way  of  thinking,  was  the  brazenness  of  it. 
They  must,  he  told  himself,  be  so  sure  of  themselves 
that  they  could  snap  their  fingers  at  risk,  or  else  they 
were  so  desperately  in  need  of  conferring  together  that 
they  overlooked  the  risk.  And  that  second  explanation 
might  easily  be  the  true  one,  in  view  of  Estan  Medina's 
death  and  the  possible  consequence  to  the  Alliance. 

Starr  was  hampered  by  not  hearing  anything  that 
was  being  said  down  there  at  that  homey-looking  ranch 
house,  where  everything  was  clearly  visible  to  him 
through  his  field  glasses.  But  even  so  it  did  not  re 
quire  speech  to  tell  him  that  Elfigo  Apodaca  had  never 
before  met  Helen  May  Stevenson,  and  that  Holman 
Sommers  was  not  overeager  to  introduce  him  to  her. 
Starr,  watching  every  movement  of  the  three  when  they 


SOMMERS  TURNS  PROPHET    273 

came  together,  frowned  with  puzzlement.  Why  had 
they  been  strangers  until  just  now  ? 

He  saw  the  three  stand  and  talk  for  perhaps  two  min 
utes;  commonplace,  early-acquaintance  nothings,  he 
judged  from  their  faces  and  actions.  He  saw  Helen 
May  offer  Holman  Sommers  the  package  she  carried; 
saw  Holman  take  it  negligently  and  tuck  it  under  his 
arm  while  he  went  on  talking.  He  saw  Helen  May  turn 
then  and  go  around  to  the  door,  which  was  opened  ef 
fusively  by  the  plump  sister  whom  he  knew.  He  saw 
the  two  men  go  to  the  well,  and  watched  Elfigo  fill  the 
water  bag  and  go  away  down  the  uneven  trail  to  where 
his  automobile  stood,  perhaps  a  quarter  of  a  mile  nearer 
the  main  road.  When  he  turned  his  glasses  from  El 
figo  to  the  house,  Holman  had  gone  inside,  and  the 
two  women  were  out  beyond  the  house  admiring  a  flock 
of  chickens  which  Maggie  called  to  her  with  a  few 
handfuls  of  grain. 

There  seemed  no  further  profit  in  watching  the  Som 
mers  house,  and  Starr  was  about  to  leave  his  post  when 
he  saw  the  dingy,  high-powered  roadster  of  the  sheriff 
come  careening  up  the  trail.  He  came  near  upsetting 
his  machine  in  getting  around  Apodaca's  big  car,  but 
he  negotiated  the  passing  with  some  skill  and  came  on 
to  where  he  met  Elfigo  himself  sweating  down  the  trail 
with  his  full  five-gallon  water  bag. 


274       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

Here  again  Starr  wished  that  he  could  hear  as  well 
as  he  could  see.  That  the  sheriff  had  seized  the  oppor 
tunity  to  place  Elfigo  under  arrest,  he  knew  well 
enough,  by  faces  and  gestures,  just  as  he  had  known  of 
Elfigo's  introduction  to  Helen  May.  But  here  were  no 
polite  nothings  heing  mouthed.  Elfigo  was  talking 
angrily,  and  Starr  would  have  given  a  great  deal  to 
hear  what  he  was  saying;  calling  it  an  outrage,  he  sup 
posed,  and  heaping  maledictions  on  the  stupidity  of  the 
law. 

The  sheriff  did  not  seem  to  pay  much  attention  to 
what  Elfigo  was  saying  beyond  pulling  a  pair  of  hand 
cuffs  from  his  coat  pocket,  and  tossing  them  to  his  pris 
oner  —  with  the  invitation  to  put  them  on,  Starr  knew 
very  well,  having  himself  done  the  same  thing  more 
than  once.  Still  talking  furiously,  Elfigo  obeyed,  and 
then  was  invited  to  climb  in  beside  the  sheriff,  who 
stooped  and  did  something  with  one  of  Elfigo's  stylishly 
trousered  legs;  manacled  him  to  something  in  the  ma 
chine,  Starr  guessed.  Erom  which  he  also  gathered 
that  Elfigo's  remarks  must  have  been  pretty  strong. 

The  sheriff  started  on,  ran  to  where  he  could  turn 
without  upsetting,  and  backed  the  car  around  as  though 
his  errand  were  done.  Quick  work  it  had  been.  Evi 
dently  Sheriff  O'Malley  had  attended  the  inquest  with 
a  blank  warrant  in  his  pocket,  for  fear  Elfigo  might 


SOMMERS  TURNS  PROPHET    275 

take  alarm  and  give  them  the  slip.  He  must  have  been 
on  the  way  back  when  he  had  either  seen  Elfigo's  car 
on  the  Sommers  trail,  or  else  had  noted  where  it  had 
turned  off  and  had  come  up  the  trail  in  a  purely  in 
vestigative  spirit.  However  that  might  be,  he  had  not 
let  the  chance  slip.  Which  was  characteristic  of  Sher 
iff  O'Malley,  essentially  a  man  of  action. 

Starr  should  have  been  glad.  Perhaps  he  was, 
though  he  did  not  look  it  as  he  went  back  to  where 
Rabbit  was  browsing  on  whatever  he  could  get  while 
he  waited  for  his  master.  Elfigo  in  jail  even  for  a 
few  days  would  be  an  advantage,  Starr  believed.  It 
would  set  the  rest  to  buzzing,  so  that  he  could  locate 
them  with  less  delay.  But  at  the  same  time  — 

"  If  it  came  to  a  showdown  right  now,  I'd  have  to 
take  her  along  with  the  rest,"  he  came  up  squarely 
against  his  real  problem.  "  She's  got  it  coming ;  but 
it's  hell,  all  the  same !  " 


CHAPTER  TWENTY 

STARR   DISCOVERS    THINGS 

STARR  was  sitting  on  the  side  of  his  bed  with  one 
boot  off  and  dangling  in  his  hand,  and  with  his 
thoughts  gone  journeying  out  over  the  mesa  and  the 
desert  and  the  granite  ridge  beyond,  to  a  squatty,  two- 
room  adobe  shack  at  the  head  of  Sunlight  Basin.  Dur 
ing  the  days  he  had  been  too  fully  occupied  with  the 
work  he  had  to  do  to  dwell  much  on  the  miserable  fact 
of  Helen  May's  duplicity,  her  guilt  of  the  crime  of 
treason  against  her  native  country.  But  at  night  the 
thought  of  her  haunted  him  like  the  fevered  ache  of  a 
wound  too  deep  to  heal  quickly. 

He  swore  an  abrupt  oath  as  a  concrete  expression 
of  his  mood,  and  dropped  the  boot  with  a  thump  to  the 
floor.  The  word  and  the  action  served  to  swing  his 
thoughts  into  another  channel  not  much  more  pleasant, 
but  a  great  deal  more  impersonal. 

"  He's  shore  foxy  —  that  hombre !  "  he  said,  think 
ing  of  Elfigo  Apodaca. 

As  matters  stood  that  evening,  Starr  felt  that  Elfigo 
had  the  right  to  laugh  at  him  and  the  whole  Secret 


STARR  DISCOVERS  THINGS    277 

Service.  Elfigo  was  in  jail,  yes.  Only  that  day  lie 
had  been  given  his  preliminary  hearing  on  the  charge 
of  murdering  Estan  Medina,  and  he  had  been  remanded 
without  bail  to  await  trial. 

On  the  face  of  it,  that  looked  as  though  Starr  had 
gained  a  point.  In  reality  he  felt  that  he  had  in  some 
manner  played  into  Elfigo's  hands.  Certainly  he  had 
not  gained  anything  in  the  way  of  producing  any  buzz 
ing  of  the  Alliance  leaders.  Not  a  Mexican  had  shown 
his  face  at  the  hearing,  save  Luis  Medina  and  his 
mother,  who  had  been  called  as  witnesses. 

Luis  had  been  badly  scared  but  stubborn,  insisting 
that  he  had  heard  Elfigo  call  Estan  from  the  house  just 
before  the  shot  was  fired.  The  mother  also  had  been 
badly  frightened,  but  not  at  all  stubborn.  Indeed,  she 
was  not  even  certain  of  anything  beyond  the  drear  fact 
that  her  son  was  dead,  and  that  he  had  fallen  with  the 
lamp  in  his  hand,  unarmed  and  unsuspecting.  She 
was  frightened  at  the  unknown,  terrible  Law  that  had 
brought  her  there  before  the  judge,  and  not  at  anything 
tangible. 

But  Luis  knew  exactly  what  it  was  he  feared.  Starr 
read  that  in  his  eyes  whenever  they  turned  toward  the 
calm,  inscrutably  smiling  Elfigo.  Hate  was  in  the 
eyes  of  Luis,  but  the  hate  was  almost  submerged  by 
the  terror  that  filled  him.  He  shook  when  he  stood 


278       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

up  to  take  the  oath.  His  voice  trembled  in  spite  of 
him  when  he  spoke ;  but  he  spoke  boldly  for  all  that  — 
falsely,  too.  He  had  lied  when  he  told  of  the  quarrel 
over  the  old  water  right.  It  was  not  a  water  right 
which  the  two  had  discussed,  and  Starr  knew  it. 

But  it  was  Elfigo  that  puzzled  Starr  most.  Elfigo 
had  smiled,  as  though  the  whole  thing  amused  him 
even  though  it  annoyed  him  to  be  under  arrest.  He 
denied,  of  course,  that  he  had  known  anything  at  all 
about  the  murder  until  it  was  common  news  about 
town.  He  had  been  somewhere  else  at  the  time  Estan 
was  shot,  and  he  could  and  would  prove,  when  the  time 
came,  that  it  would  have  been  physically  impossible 
for  him  to  have  shot  Estan  Medina.  He  preferred  not 
to  produce  any  witnesses  now,  however.  Let  it  go  to 
a  jury  trial,  and  then  he  would  clear  himself  of  the 
charge.  All  through  his  lawyer,  of  course,  while  El 
figo  sat  back  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and  his  feet 
thrust  out  before  him,  whimsically  contemplating  his 
tan  shoes. 

He  had  seemed  confident  that  bail  would  be  accepted, 
and  he  was  unmistakably  crestfallen  when  the  judge, 
who  acted  under  certain  instructions  from  those  above 
him,  refused  to  accept  bail.  But  Elfigo  had  scored, 
nevertheless;  he  had  not  permitted  any  of  his  friends 
to  become  identified  in  anv  manner  whatsoever  with 


STARR  DISCOVERS  THINGS     279 

his  movements,  and  he  had  withheld  his  side  of  the  case 
altogether. 

So  Starr  was  left  in  the  dark  where  he  had  expected 
to  find  the  light  he  needed  to  direct  him.  He  had  also 
permitted  Luis  to  mark  himself  for  another  murder  in 
the  Medina  family.  Well,  Luis  was  a  conspirator,  for 
that  matter;  but  he  was  a  boy,  and  his  judgment  had 
not  ripened.  It  seemed  a  shame  that  a  youngster  like 
that  should  be  drawn  into  such  a  mess.  Starr,  de 
termined  to  do  what  he  could  to  protect  Luis,  had  seen 
to  it  that  Luis  was  locked  up,  for  the  purely  technical 
reason  that  he  was  an  important  witness  and  they 
wanted  to  be  sure  of  him;  but  really  to  protect  him 
from  the  wrath  of  Elfigo. 

"  And  now,"  Starr's  thoughts  ran  on,  "  I  stand  just 
where  I  stood  before,  except  that  I  know  a  whole  heap 
more  than  I  wish  I  knew.  And  if  the  thing  breaks 
loose  before  the  trial,  Elfigo  will  be  in  jail  where  he's 
got  a  cast-iron  alibi.  The  rest  of  the  bunch  must  be 
strong  enough  to  go  on  without  him,  but  I  shore  did 
hope  they'd  be  stirred  up  some  over  this  shooting. 
They'll  likely  get  together  right  away,  hold  a  meeting 
and  make  arrangements  to  do  without  Elfigo.  If  I 
knew  where  .  .  ." 

He  lifted  the  other  foot  to  remove  its  boot,  hesitated, 
and  set  it  down  again.  Surely  the  Alliance  would  have 


280       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

to  adjust  itself  to  the  loss  of  Elfigo.  They  would  get 
together,  and  what  buzzing  they  did  would  be  behind 
barred  doors,  since  they  had  been  too  cunning  to  show 
themselves  at  the  hearing;  that  night,  probably,  since 
they  knew  now  that  Elfigo  had  been  bound  over  to  the 
grand  jury,  and  that  he  was  held  without  bail.  Where 
would  they  meet?  That  was  what  Starr  wished  he 
knew. 

He  sat  there  rumpling  his  hair  and  studying  the 
question.  He  could  not  fix  upon  any  particular  place, 
unless  it  was  the  Sommers  ranch ;  and  that  was  too  far 
from  town  for  any  urgent  business,  and  travelers  to 
and  from  the  place  would  be  taking  too  great  a  risk. 
For  he  was  sure  there  would  be  a  dozen  or  more  who 
would  make  up  the  Junta,  and  for  so  many  men  to  be 
traveling  in  one  direction  would  excite  curiosity  from 
any  one  who  saw  them  leave  town  or  return. 

There  was  another  possible  meeting  place  —  the  of 
fice  of  Las  Nuevas.  Starr  thought  of  that  rather  hope 
lessly.  Just  as  a  common  precaution,  they  would  guard 
the  doors  if  the  Junta  met  there,  or  they  would  have 
men  stationed  on  the  stairs;  that  he  would  not  be  able 
to  get  up  without  giving  the  alarm  he  knew  as  well  as 
though  he  had  tried  and  failed. 

His  thoughts  went  to  that  hidden,  inner  office  where 
he  had  found  the  pamphlets  and  the  writing  that  pointed 


STARR  DISCOVERS  THINGS     281 

to  Helen  May  as  one  of  the  band.  There,  where  there 
were  no  outside  windows  to  betray  a  midnight  con 
ference  by  any  showing  of  light  within;  where  eaves 
dropping  was  absolutely  impossible;  where  the  men 
who  met  there  might  gain  the  yard  by  various  means, 
since  it  faced  on  three  streets,  and  be  practically  safe 
from  observation,  he  became  convinced  would  be  the 
logical  meeting  place. 

To  be  sure,  he  was  only  guessing.  He  had  no  evi 
dence  whatever  save  his  own  reason  that  there  would 
be  a  meeting,  much  less  that  it  would  be  held  in  the 
secret  office  room  of  Las  Nuevas.  But  he  put  on  the 
boot  he  had  taken  off  and  reached  for  his  coat.  A  half 
hour  or  so  ought  to  prove  him  right  or  wrong  in  his 
deductions,  and  Starr  would  not  have  grudged  a  full 
night  to  satisfy  himself  on  that  point. 

It  was  late,  nearly  midnight,  to  be  exact,  when  he 
slipped  out  to  the  shed,  and  watched  from  its  shadow 
until  he  was  sure  that  no  one  had  seen  him,  before  he 
let  himself  down  through  the  hole  in  the  manger  to  the 
arroyo  bottom.  He  went  hurriedly,  but  he  was  very 
careful  not  to  show  himself  without  first  making  sure 
that  the  way  was  clear. 

Tor  that  reason  he  escaped  being  seen  by  a  tall  young 
Mexican  whom  he  caught  sight  of  lounging  at  the 
corner  opposite  the  building  that  held  Las  Nuevas. 


282        STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

Ostensibly  the  fellow  had  merely  stopped  to  light  a 
cigarette,  but  while  Starr  watched  him  he  struck  three 
matches  in  succession,  and  immediately  afterwards  a 
shadow  glided  from  the  shelter  of  a  plumber's  shop 
opposite,  slipped  down  to  the  gate  that  was  always 
barred,  and  disappeared. 

Starr  circled  warily  to  the  rear  of  the  yard  to  see 
what  chance  there  might  be  of  getting  over  the  wall 
unseen.  He  did  not  know  what  good  it  would  do  him 
to  get  into  the  yard,  but  he  hoped  that  he  might  be 
lucky  enough  to  see  any  one  who  entered  the  back  door, 
which  would  be  the  logical  means  of  ingress. 

He  was  standing  back  of  the  garage  where  he  had 
found  the  cord  tires,  when  the  quiet  of  the  night  was 
split  with  the  shrill,  nerve-racking  shriek  of  the  fire 
whistle,  four  or  five  blocks  away.  In  spite  of  himself, 
he  was  startled  with  its  suddenness,  and  he  stood  tensed 
and  waiting  for  the  dismal  hoots  that  would  tell  what 
ward  the  fire  was  in.  One  —  two  — three,  croaked  the 
siren  like  a  giant  hoot-owl  calling  in  the  night. 

"  Third  ward  —  down  around  the  depot,  probably," 
he  heard  a  voice  say  guardedly  on  the  other  side  of  the 
fence.  Another  voice,  more  guarded  even  than  the 
first,  muttered  a  reply  which  Starr  could  not  catch. 
JSTeither  voice  was  recognizable,  and  the  sentence  he 
heard  was  so  obvious  a  remark  as  to  be  practically 


STARR  DISCOVERS  THINGS    283 

meaningless;  probably  a  hundred  persons  in  town  had 
said  "  Third  ward/'  when  the  siren  had  tooted  the 
number. 

At  any  rate  some  one  was  there  in  the  yard  of  Las 
Nuevas,  and  it  would  not  be  wise  for  Starr  to  attempt 
getting  over  the  wall.  He  waited  therefore  until  he 
heard  careful  footsteps  moving  away;  whereupon  he 
himself  stole  quietly  to  the  corner,  thence  down  the  side 
wall  to  the  front  of  the  building,  so  that  he  could  look 
across  the  street  to  where  the  Mexican  had  revealed 
himself  for  a  moment  in  the  light  of  a  distant  street 
lamp. 

If  the  Mexican  had  been  on  watch  there,  he  had  left 
his  post.  In  a  minute  Starr  saw  him  hurrying  down 
the  unused  side  street,  toward  the  angry  glow  that  told 
where  the  fire  had  started.  Too  much  temptation, 
Starr  interpreted  the  fellow's  desertion  of  his  post; 
or  else  no  more  men  were  expected  at  Las  Nuevas,  and 
the  outpost  was  no  longer  needed.  Taking  it  for 
granted  that  a  meeting  had  been  called  here,  Starr  rea 
soned  from  that  assumption. 

He  waited  another  minute  or  two,  watching  and  listen 
ing.  There  was  nothing  at  the  front  to  break  the  quiet 
or  spoil  the  air  of  desertion  that  surrounds  an  empty 
office  building  at  midnight.  He  went  cautiously  to  the 
rear  corner  and  turned  there  to  look  back  at  the  build- 


284       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

ing,  watchful  for  any  stray  beam  of  light  or  any  move 
ment. 

The  upper  story  was  dark  as  the  rest  of  the  yard 
and  building,  and  Starr  could  almost  believe  that  he 
was  on  the  wrong  track  entirely,  and  that  nothing  was 
going  on  here.  But  he  continued  to  stand  there,  loath 
to  give  up  and  go  home  with  nothing  accomplished. 

Close  beside  the  building  and  back  perhaps  twenty 
feet  from  the  front  corner,  a  telephone  and  electric 
light  pole  stood  with  outstretched  arms,  holding  aloft 
its  faintly  humming  wires.  Starr  stood  looking  that 
way  for  some  time  before  it  occurred  to  him  that  there 
was  no  street  light  near  enough  to  send  that  warm, 
yellow  glow  across  the  second  bar  from  the  bottom. 
The  rest  of  the  pole  was  vague  and  shadowy,  like  every 
thing  else  in  the  immediate  neighborhood.  The  bottom 
of  the  pole  he  could  not  see  at  all  from  where  he  stood, 
it  was  so  dark  alongside  the  building.  But  that  second 
cross-arm  was  lighted  as  from  a  near-by  window. 
Yet  there  was  no  lighted  window  anywhere  in  the 
place. 

Starr  was  puzzled.  Being  puzzled,  he  went  slowly 
toward  the  pole,  his  face  turned  upward.  The  nearest 
street  lamp  was  a  full  block  away,  and  it  would  have 
lighted  up  the  whole  top  of  the  pole  evenly,  if  at  all. 
At  the  foot  of  the  pole  Starr  stood  for  a  minute,  still 


STARR  DISCOVERS  THINGS     285 

staring  upward.  Then  he  reached  up,  gripped  the 
metal  steps  and  began  carefully  to  climb. 

Before  he  had  reached  the  lighted  cross-arm  he  knew 
that  the  glow  must  come  from  a  skylight ;  and  that  the 
skylight  must  be  the  one  that  had  saved  that  hidden 
little  office  room  from  being  dark.  He  was  no  line 
man,  but  he  knew  enough  to  be  careful  about  the  wires, 
so  it  took  him  several  minutes  to  work  his  way  to  where 
he  could  straddle  a  crosstree  that  had  few  wires. 

Just  below  him  and  no  more  than  twelve  or  fifteen 
feet  distant  was  the  skylight  he  had  suspected,  but 
before  he  gave  that  much  attention,  he  looked  across 
to  where  the  fire  was  sending  up  a  column  of  crimson 
smoke  and  bright,  eddying  sparks,  four  blocks  or  so 
away.  The  man  left  on  guard  would  find  it  difficult 
to  tear  himself  away  from  all  that  excitement,  Starr 
thought  satisfiedly;  though  if  he  came  back  he  could 
scarcely  help  seeing  Starr  on  that  lighted  perch,  and 
he  would  undoubtedly  take  a  shot  at  him  if  he  were 
any  man  at  all  and  had  a  spark  of  loyalty  to  his  fellows. 
For  Starr's  business  up  there  could  not  be  mistaken  by 
the  stupidest  greaser  in  the  town. 

With  the  fire  to  help  his  cause,  Starr  craned  toward 
the  building  and  looked  down  through  the  skylight.  It 
had  been  partly  raised  for  ventilation,  which  was  needed 
in  that  little,  inside  room,  especially  since  twelve  men 


286       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

were  foregathered  there,  and  since  every  man  in  the 
lot  was  burning  tobacco  in  some  form. 

Sommers  was  there,  seated  at  the  end  of  a  table  that 
had  been  moved  into  the  center  of  the  room,  which 
brought  it  directly  under  the  skylight.  He  sat  facing 
Starr,  and  he  was  reading  something  to  himself  while 
the  others  waited  in  silence  until  he  had  finished.  His 
strong,  dark  face  was  grave,  his  high  forehead  creased 
with  the  wrinkles  of  deep  thinking.  He  had  a  cigar 
in  one  corner  of  his  mouth,  and  he  was  absentmindedly 
chewing  it  rather  than  smoking.  He  looked  the 
leader,  though  his  clothes  were  inclined  to  shabbiness 
and  he  sat  slouched  forward  in  his  chair.  He  looked 
the  leader,  and  their  leader  those  others  proclaimed  him 
by  their  very  silence,  and  by  the  way  their  faces  turned 
toward  him  while  they  waited. 


CKAPTEK  TWENTY-ONE 

THROUGH    THE    OPE1T    SKYLIGHT 

SOMMEES  took  his  cigar  from  his  mouth  and  laid 
it  carefully  down  upon  the  edge  of  the  table,  al 
though  he  was  plainly  unconscious  of  the  movement. 
He  lifted  his  head  with  a  little  toss  that  threw  back  a 
heavy  lock  of  his  jet-black  hair.  He  glanced  around 
the  table,  and  his  eyes  dominated  those  others  hyp 
notically. 

"  I  have  here,"  he  began  in  the  sonorous  voice  and 
the  measured  enunciation  of  the  trained  orator,  "  a 
letter  from  our  esteemed  —  and  unfortunate — -com 
rade  and  fellow  worker,  Elfigo  Apodaca.  Without 
taking  your  valuable  time  by  reading  the  letter  through 
from  salutation  to  signature,  I  may  say  briefly  that  its 
context  is  devoted  to  our  cause  and  to  the  inconvenience 
which  may  be  entailed  because  of  our  comrade's  present 
incarceration,  the  duration  of  which  is  as  yet  unde 
termined. 

"  Comrade  Apodaca  expresses  great  confidence  in  his 
ultimate  release.  He  maintains  that  young  Medina  is 


288       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

essentially  a  traitor,  and  that  his  evidence  at  the  pre 
liminary  hearing  was  given  purely  in  the  spirit  of  re 
venge.  That  Comrade  Apodaca  will  be  exonerated 
fully  of  the  charge  of  murder,  I  myself  can  entertain 
no  scintilla  of  doubt.  We  may  therefore  dismiss  from 
our  minds  any  uneasiness  we  may,  some  of  us,  have 
entertained  on  that  score. 

"  The  question  we  are  foregathered  here  to  decide 
to-night  is  whether  the  date  set  for  our  public  demon 
stration  shall  remain  as  it  stands;  whether  we  shall 
seek  permission  to  postpone  that  date,  or  whether  it 
shall  be  deemed  expedient  to  set  it  forward  to  the  earli 
est  possible  moment.  As  you  all  are  doubtless  aware, 
our  esteemed  compatriots  in  Mexico  are  ready  and  wait 
ing  our  pleasure,  like  hounds  straining  at  the  leash. 
The  work  of  organization  on  this  side  of  the  line  has 
of  necessity  been  slow,  because  of  various  adverse  in 
fluences  and  a  slothful  desire  for  present  ease  and 
safety,  which  we  have  been  constrained  to  combat. 
Also  the  accumulation  of  arms  and  ammunition  in  a 
sufficient  quantity  for  our  purpose  without  excit 
ing  suspicion  has  required  much  tactful  manipula 
tion. 

"  But  we  have  here  assembled  the  trusted  representa 
tives  from  our  twelve  districts  in  the  State,  and  I  trust 
that  each  one  of  you  has  come  prepared  to  furnish  this 


THE  OPEN  SKYLIGHT          289 

Junta  with  the  data  necessary  for  an  intelligent  action 
upon  the  question  we  have  to  decide  to-night.  Am  I 
right,  gentlemen,  in  that  assumption  ? " 

Eleven  men  nodded  assent  and  looked  down  at  the 
slips  of  paper  they  had  produced  from  inner  pockets 
and  held  ready  in  their  hands. 

"  Then  I  shall  ask  you,  compadres,  to  listen  care 
fully  to  the  report  from  each  district,  so  that  you  may 
judge  the  wisdom  of  foreshortening  the  interval  between 
to-night  and  the  date  set  for  the  uprising. 

"  Each  representative  will  give  the  number,  in  his 
district,  of  armed  members  of  the  Alliance;  the  amount 
of  ammunition  at  hand ;  the  number  of  agents  secretly 
occupying  positions  of  trust  where  they  can  give  the 
most  aid  to  the  movement;  the  number  of  Spanish- 
Americans  who,  like  our  unfortunate  neighbor,  Estan- 
cio  Medina,  have  refused  thus  far  to  come  into  the 
Alliance;  the  number,  in  his  district,  who  may  be 
counted  upon  to  come  in,  once  they  see  that  the  cause 
is  not  hopeless ;  who  may  be  expected  to  take  the  purely 
American  side,  and  who  may  be  safely  depended  upon 
to  remain  neutral.  I  shall  ask  each  of  you  to  tell  us 
also  the  extent  and  nature  of  such  opposition  as  your 
district  must  be  prepared  to  meet.  There  has  been  a 
rumor  of  some  preparation  for  resistance  to  our  move 
ment,  and  we  shall  want  to  know  all  that  you  can  tell 


290       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

us  of  that  phase  of  the  situation  as  observed  in  your 
district. 

"  These  seemingly  unimportant  details  are  absolutely 
essential,  gentlemen  of  the  Junta.  For  in  this  revo 
lutionary  movement  you  must  bear  in  mind  that  brother 
will  rise  up  against  brother,  as  it  were.  You  will  be 
called  upon,  perchance,  to  slay  the  dearest  friend  of 
your  school  days;  your  neighbor,  if  so  be  he  is  allied 
against  you  when  the  great  day  comes.  We  must  not 
weaken ;  we  must  keep  our  eyes  fixed  upon  the  ultimate 
good  that  will  come  out  of  the  turmoil.  But  we  must 
know!  We  must  not  make  the  irretrievable  error  of 
taking  anything  for  granted.  3£eeping  that  in  mind, 
gentlemen,  we  will  hear  first  the  report  from  Berna- 
lillo  district." 

A  man  at  the  right  of  Sommers  unfolded  his  little 
slip  of  paper,  cleared  his  throat  and  began,  in  strongly 
accented  English,  to  read.  The  eleven  who  listened 
leaned  forward,  elbows  on  the  table,  and  drank  in  the 
terrible  figures  avidly.  Sommers  set  down  the  figures 
in  columns  and  made  notes  on  the  pad  before  him,  his 
lips  pressed  together  in  a  straight  line  that  twisted  now 
and  then  with  a  sinister  kind  of  satisfaction. 

"  That,  gentlemen,  is  how  the  Cause  stands  in  the 
county  that  has  the  largest  population  and  approxi 
mately  the  smallest  area  of  any  county  in  the  State. 


THE  OPEN  SKYLIGHT          291 

While  this  report  is  not  altogether  new  to  me,  yet  I 
am  struck  anew  with  the  great  showing  that  has  been 
made  in  that  county.  With  the  extensive  yards  and 
shops  of  the  Santa  Fe  at  Albuquerque  seized  and  held 
by  our  forces,  together  with  the  junction  points  and  — 

Starr  did  not  wait  to  hear  any  more,  but  edged  hastily 
back  to  the  pole  and  began  to  climb  down  as  though  a 
disturbed  hornets'  nest  hung  above  him.  The  report 
that  had  so  elated  Sommers  sent  a  chill  down  Starr's 
back.  If  one  county  could  show  so  appalling  an  in- 
surrectory  force,  what  of  the  whole  State?  Yes,  and 
the  other  States  involved !  And  the  thing  might  be 
turned  loose  at  any  time! 

He  dropped  to  the  ground,  sending  a  scared  glance 
for  the  watchman  who  had  gone  to  the  fire.  He  was 
nowhere  to  be  seen,  and  Starr,  running  to  the  rear  of 
the  lot,  skirted  the  high  wall  at  a  trot;  crossed  a  nar 
row,  black  alley,  hurried  down  behind  the  next  lots  to 
the  cross  street,  walked  as  fast  as  he  dared  to  the  next 
corner,  turned  into  the  main  street,  and  made  for  the 
nearest  public  telephone  booth. 

He  sweated  there  in  the  glass  cage  for  a  long  ten 
minutes  before  he  had  managed  to  get  in  touch  with 
Sheriff  O'Malley  and  the  chief  of  police,  and  to  tell 
each  in  turn  what  he  wanted  and  where  they  must  meet 
bim,  and  how  many  minutes  they  might  have  to  do  it 


292       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

in.  He  came  out  feeling  as  though  he  had  been  in 
there  an  hour,  and  went  straight  to  the  rendezvous  he 
had  named,  which  was  a  shed  near  the  building  of  Las 
NuevaSj  only  on  another  street. 

They  came,  puffing  a  little  and  a  good  deal  mystified. 
Starr,  not  daring  to  state 'his  real  business  with  them, 
had  asked  for  men  to  surround  and  take  a  holdup  gang. 
All  told,  there  were  six  of  them  when  all  had  arrived, 
and  they  must  have  been  astounded  at  what  Starr  told 
them  in  a  prudent  undertone  and  speaking  swiftly. 
They  did  not  say  anything  much,  but  slipped  away 
after  him  and  came  to  the  high  wall  that  hid  so  much 
menace. 

"  There  was  a  hombre  on  guard  across  the  .street," 
Starr  told  the  sheriff.  "  He  went  off  to  the  fire,  but 
he's  liable  to  come  back.  Put  a  man  over  there  in  the 
shade  of  that  junk  shop  to  watch  out  for  him  and  nab 
him  before  he  can  give  the  alarm.  This  is  ticklish 
work,  remember.  Any  Mexican  in  town  would  knife 
you  if  he  knew  what  you're  up  to. 

"  Johnson,  you  can  climb  the  pole  and  pull  down  on 
?em  through  the  skylight,  but  wait  till  you  see  by  their 
actions  that  they've  got  the  tip  something's  wrong,  and 
don't  shoot  if  you  can  help  it.  Remember  this  is  Secret 
Service  work,  and  the  quieter  it's  done,  the  better 
pleased  they'll  be  in  Washington,  There  can't  be 


THE  OPEN  SKYLIGHT          298 

hullabaloo  at  all.  You  two  fellows  watch  the  front  and 
back  gates,  and  the  no-shooting  rule  goes  with  you,  too. 
If  there's  anything  else  you  can  do,  don't  shoot.  But 
it's  better  to  fire  a  cannon  than  let  a  man  get  away. 
Sabe  ?  Now,  Chief,  you  and  the  sheriff  can  come  with 
me,  and  we'll  bust  up  the  meetin'  for  'em." 

He  went  up  on  the  shoulder  of  the  man  who  was  to 
watch  outside  the  rear  wall,  and  straddled  the  wall  for 
a  brief  reconnoiter.  Evidently  the  Junta  felt  safe  in 
their  hidden  little  room,  for  no  guard  had  been  left  in 
the  yard.  The  back  door  was  locked,  and  Starr  opened 
it  as  silently  as  he  could  with  his  pass  key.  Close 
behind  him  came  Sheriff  O'Malley  and  the  chief  of 
police,  whose  name  was  Whittier.  They  had  left  their 
shoes  beside  the  doorstep  and  walked  in  their  socks, 
making  no  noise  at  all. 

Starr  did  not  dare  use  his  searchlight,  but  felt  his 
way  down  past  the  press  and  the  forms,  to  where  the 
stairs  went  up  to  the  second  floor.  On  the  third  step 
from  the  bottom,  Starr,  feeling  his  way  with  his  hands, 
touched  a  dozing  watchman  and  choked  him  into  sub 
mission  before  the  fellow  had  emitted  more  than  a 
sleepy  grunt  of  surprise.  They  left  him  gagged  and 
tied  to  the  iron  leg  of  some  heavy  piece  of  machinery, 
and  went  on  up  the  stairs,  treading  as  stealthily  as  a 
prowling  cat. 


294       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

Starr  turned  to  the  right,  found  the  door  locked,  and 
patiently  turned  his  key  a  hair's  breadth  at  a  time  in 
the  lock,  until  he  slid  the  bolt  back.  Behind  him  the 
repressed  breathing  of  O'Malley  fanned  warmly  the 
back  of  his  neck.  He  pushed  the  door  open  a  half  inch 
at  a  time,  found  the  outer  office  dark  and  silent,  and 
crossed  it  stealthily  to  the  closet  behind  the  stove. 
O'Malley  and  Whittier  were  so  close  behind  that  he 
could  feel  them  as  they  entered  the  closet  and  crept 
along  its  length. 

Starr  was  reaching  out  before  him  with  his  hands, 
feeling  for  the  door  into  the  secret  office,  when  Sheriff 
O'Malley  struck  his  foot  against  the  old  tin  spittoon, 
tried  to  cover  the  sound,  and  ran  afoul  of  the  brooms, 
which  tripped  him  and  sent  him  lurching  against  Starr. 
There  in  that  small  space  where  everything  had  been 
so  deathly  still  the  racket  was  appalling.  O'Malley 
was  not  much  given  to  secret  work;  he  forgot  himself 
now  and  swore  just  as  full-toned  and  just  as  fluently 
as  though  he  had  tripped  in  the  dark  over  his  own 
wheelbarrow  in  his  own  back  yard. 

Starr  threw  himself  against  the  end  of  the  closet 
where  he  knew  the  door  was  hidden  in  the  wall,  felt 
the  yielding  of  a  board,  and  heaved  against  it  with  his 
shoulder.  He  landed  almost  on  top  of  a  fat-jowled 
representative  from  Santa  Fe,  but  he  landed  muzzle 


THE  OPEN  SKYLIGHT          295 

foremost,  as  it  were,  and  he  was  telling  the  twelve  to 
put  up  their  hands  even  before  he  had  his  feet  solidly 
planted  on  the  floor. 

Holman  Sonuners  sat  facing  him.  He  had  been 
writing,  and  he  still  held  his  pencil  in  his  hand.  He 
slowly  crumpled  the  sheet  of  paper,  his  vivid  eyes  lifted 
to  Starr's  face.  Tragic  eyes  they  were  then,  for  be 
yond  Starr  they  looked  into  the  stern  face  of  the  gov 
ernment  he  would  have  defied.  They  looked  upon  the 
wreck  of  his  dearest  dream ;  upon  the  tightening  chains 
of  the  wage  slaves  he  would  have  freed  —  or  so  he 
dreamed. 

Starr  stared  back,  his  own  mind  visioning  swiftly 
the  havoc  he  had  wrought  in  the  dream  of  this  leader 
of  men.  He  saw,  not  a  political  outlaw  caught  before 
he  could  do  harm  to  his  country,  but  a  man  fated  to 
bear  in  his  great  brain  an  idea  born  generations  too 
soon  into  a  brawling  world  of  ideas  that  warred  always 
with  sordid  circumstance.  A  hundred  years  hence 
this  man  might  be  called  great.  Now  he  was  nothing 
more  than  a  political  outlaw  chief,  trapped  with  his 
band  of  lesser  outlaws. 

Sommers'  eyes  lightened  impishly.  His  thin  lips 
twisted  in  a  smile  at  the  damnable  joke  which  Life  was 
playing  there  in  that  room. 

"  Gentlemen  of  the  Junta,"  he  said  in  his  sonorous, 


296       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

public-platform  voice,  "  I  find  it  expedient,  because  of 
untoward  circumstances,  to  advise  that  you  make  no 
resistance.  Prom  the  unceremonious  and  unheralded 
entry  of  our  esteemed  opponents,  these  political  pros 
titutes  who  have  had  the  effrontery  to  come  here  in  the 
employ  of  a  damnable  system  of  political  tyranny  and 
frustrate  our  plans  for  the  liberation  of  our  comrades 
in  slavery,  I  apprehend  the  fact  that  we  have  been 
basely  betrayed  by  some  foul  Judas  among  us.  I  am 
left  with  no  alternative  but  to  advise  that  you  surrender 
your  bodies  to  these  minions  of  what  they  please  to  call 
the  law. 

"  Whether  we  part  now,  to  spend  the  remaining  years 
of  our  life  in  some  foul  dungeon;  whether  to  die  a 
martyr's  death  on  the  scaffold,  or  whether  the  workers 
of  the  land  awake  to  their  power  and,  under  some  wiser, 
stronger  leadership,  liberate  us  to  enjoy  the  fruits  of 
the  harvest  we  have  but  sown,  I  cannot  attempt  to 
prophesy.  We  have  done  what  we  could  for  our  fel- 
lowmen.  We  have  not  failed,  for  though  we  perish, 
yet  our  blood  shall  fructify  what  we  have  sown,  that 
our  sons  and  our  sons'  sons  may  reap  the  garnered 
grain.  Gentlemen,  of  the  Junta,  I  declare  our  meet 
ing  adjourned !  " 

Starr's  eyes  were  troubled,  but  his  gun  did  not  waver. 
It  pointed  straight  at  the  breast  of  Holman  Sommers, 


THE  OPEN  SKYLIGHT          297 

who  looked  at  him  measuringly  when  he  had  finished 
speaking. 

"  I  can't  argue  about  the  idea  back  of  this  business," 
Starr  said  gravely.  "  All  I  can  do  is  my  duty.  Put 
on  these  handcuffs,  Mr.  Sommers.  They  stand  for 
something  you  ain't  big  enough  to  lick  —  yet." 

"  Certainly/7  said  Holman  Sommers  composedly. 
"  You.  put  the  case  like  a  philosopher.  Like  a  philoso 
pher  I  yield  to  the  power  which,  I  grant  you,  we  are 
not  big  enough  to  lick  —  yet.  In  behalf  of  our  Cause, 
however,  permit  me  to  call  your  attention  to  the  fact 
that  we  might  have  come  nearer  to  victory,  had  you 
not  discovered  and  interrupted  this  meeting  to-night." 
Though  his  face  was  paler  than  was  natural,  he  slipped 
on  the  manacles  as  matter-of-factly  as  he  would  have 
put  on  clean  cuffs,  and  rose  from  his  chair  prepared  to 
go  where  Starr  directed. 

"  No,  sit*  down  again,"  said  Starr  brusquely. 
"  Sheriff,  gather  up  all  those  pieces  of  paper  for  evi 
dence  against  these  men,  and  give  them  to  me.  Give 
me  a  receipt  for  the  men  —  I'll  wait  for  it.  I  want 
you  and  Chief  Whittier  to  hold  them  here  in  this  room 
till  I  come  back.  I  won't  be  long  —  half  an  hour, 
maybe."  He  took  the  slips  of  paper  which  the  sheriff 
folded  and  handed  to  him,  and  slipped  them  into  his 
pocket. 


298        STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

He  was  gone  a  little  longer  than  he  said,  for  he  had 
some  trouble  in  locating  the  railroad  official  he  wanted, 
and  in  convincing  that  sleepy  official  that  he  was  speak 
ing  for  the  government  when  he  demanded  an  engine 
and  day  coach  to  be  placed  on  a  certain  dark  siding  he 
mentioned,  ready  for  a  swift  night  run  to  El  Paso 
and  a  little  beyond  —  to  Fort  Bliss,  in  fact. 

He  got  it,  trust  Starr  for  that!  And  he  was  only 
twenty  minutes  behind  the  time  he  had  named,  though 
the  sheriff  and  the  chief  of  police  betrayed  a  nervous 
relief  when  he  walked  in  upon  them  and  announced 
that  he  was  ready  now  to  move  the  prisoners. 

They  untied  the  terrified  watchman  and  added  him 
to  the  group.  In  the  dark,  and  by  way  of  vacant  lots 
and  unlighted  streets,  he  took  them  to  a  certain  point 
where  an  engine  had  just  backed  a  single,  unlighted  day 
coach  on  to  a  siding  and  stood  there  with  air-pump 
wheezing  and  the  engineer  crawling  around  beneath 
with  his  oil  can.  By  the  rear  steps  of  the  coach  a 
mystified  conductor  stood  waiting  with  his  lantern  hid 
den  under  his  coat.  A  big  man  was  the  conductor; 
once  a  policeman  and  therefore  with  a  keen  nose  — 
don't  laugh !  —  for  mysteries. 

He  wore  a  satisfied  look  when  he  saw  the  men  that 
were  being  hustled  into  the  car.  His  uniform  tight 
ened  as  he  swelled  with  the  importance  of  his  mission. 


THE  OPEN  SKYLIGHT          299 

He  nodded  to  Sheriff  O'Malley  and  the  chief  of  police, 
cast  an  obliquely  curious  glance  at  Starr,  who  stayed 
on  the  ground,  and  when  Starr  gave  the  word  he  swung 
his  lantern  to  the  watching  fireman,  and  caught  the 
handrail  beside  the  steps. 

"  Fort  Bliss  it  is ;  and  there  won't  nothing  stop  us, 
buh-lieve  me !  "  he  muttered  confidentially  to  Starr, 
whom  he  recognized  only  as  the  man  who  stood  behind 
the  mystery.  The  engine  began  to  creep  forward,  and 
he  swung  up  to  the  lower  step.  "We  may  go  in  the 
ditch  or  something;  but  we'll  get  there,  you  listen  to 
me!" 

"  Go  to  it,  and  good  luck,"  said  Starr,  but  there  was 
no  heartiness  in  his  voice.  He  stood  with  his  thumbs 
hooked  inside  his  gun-belt  and  watched  the  coach  that 
held  the  peace  of  the  country  within  its  varnished  walls 
go  sliding  out  of  the  yard,  its  green  tail  lights  the  only 
illumination  anywhere  behind  the  engine.  When  it 
had  clicked  over  the  switch  and  was  picking  up  speed 
for  its  careening  flight  south  through  the  cool  hours 
of  early  morning,  he  gave  a  sigh  that  had  no  triumph 
in  it,  and  turned  away  toward  his  cabin. 

"Well,  there  goes  the  revolution,"  he  said  somberly 
to  himself.  "  And  here  I  go  to  do  the  rest  of  the  job ; 
and  alongside  what  I've  got  to  do,  hell  would  be  a 
picnic !  " 


CHAPTEK  TWENTY-TWO 

STAKE    TAKES    ANOTHEE    PEISONEE 

WITH  a  slip  of  paper  in  his  pocket  that  would 
have  gone  a  long  way  toward  clearing  Helen 
May,  had  he  only  taken  the  trouble  to  look  at  it,  Starr 
rode  out  in  the  cool  early  morning  to  Sunlight  Basin. 
He  looked  white  and  worn,  and  his  eyes  were  sunken 
and  circled  with  the  purple  of  too  little  sleep  and  too 
much  worry,  for  in  the  three  days  since  he  had  seen 
her,  Starr  had  not  been  able  to  forget  his  misery  once 
in  merciful  sleep.  Only  when  he  was  busy  with  cap 
turing  the  Junta  had  he  lost  for  a  time  the  keen  pain 
of  his  hurt. 

Now  it  was  back  like  an  aching  tooth  set  going  again 
with  cold  water  or  sweets.  He  tried  to  make  himself 
think  that  he  hated  Helen  May,  and  that  a  girl  of  that 
type  —  a  girl  who  could  lend  herself  to  such  treach 
ery  —  could  not  possibly  win  from  him  anything  but  a 
pitying  contempt.  He  told  himself  over  and  over  again 
that  he  was  merely  sore  because  a  girl  had  "  put  some 
thing  over  on  him  " ;  that  a  man  hated  to  have  a  woman 
make  a  fool  of  him. 


TAKES  ANOTHER  PRISONER    301 

He  tried  to  gloat  over  the  fact  that  he  had  found  her 
out  before  she  had  any  inkling  of  how  he  felt  toward 
her ;  he  actually  believed  that !  He  tried  not  to  wince 
at  the  thought  of  her  at  Fort  Bliss,  a  Federal  prisoner, 
charged  with  conspiring  against  the  government.  She 
must  have  known  the  risk  she  took,  he  kept  telling  him 
self.  The  girl  was  no  fool,  was  way  above  the  aver 
age  in  intelligence.  That  was  why  she  had  appealed 
to  him;  he  had  felt  the  force  of  her  personality,  the 
underlying  strength  of  her  character  that  had  not  harsh- 
ened  her  outward  charm,  as  strength  so  often  does  for 
a  woman. 

That  was  the  worst  of  it.  Had  she  been  weak  she 
would  never  have  mixed  with  any  political  conspiracy; 
they  would  not  have  wanted  her,  for  intrigue  has  no 
place  for  weaklings,  Eut  had  she  been  weak  she  would 
never  have  attracted  Starr  so  deeply,  however  innocent 
she  might  have  been.  So  his  reasoning  went  round  and 
round  in  a  circle,  until  he  was  utterly  heartsick  with  no 
hope  of  finding  peace. 

There  was  one  thing  he  could  do :  it  would  be  tight 
ening  the  screws  of  his  torture,  but  he  meant  to  do  it 
for  her  sake.  He  would  take  her  to  Fort  Bliss  him 
self,  shielding  her  from  publicity  and  humiliation; 
and  he  would  take  charge  of  Vic,  and  see  that  the  kid 
did  not  suffer  too  much  on  account  of  his  sister. 


302       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

He  would  make  a  man  of  Vie ;  lie  never  guessed  that 
he  was  taking  up  mentally  the  burden  which  Peter  had 
laid  upon  Helen  May.  He  believed  there  was  good 
stuff  in  that  kid,  and  with  the  right  handling  he  would 
come  out  all  right.  He  would  put  in  a  plea  to  his 
chief  for  leniency  toward  the  girl  too.  He  would  say 
that  she  was  young  and  inexperienced  and  that  Hoi- 
man  Sommers  had  probably  drawn  her  into  his  scheme 
• —  Starr  could  see  how  that  might  easily  be  —  and  that 
her  health  was  absolutely  dependent  upon  open  air. 
They  couldn't  keep  her  shut  up  long;  a  girl  could  not 
do  much  harm,  if  the  rest  of  the  bunch  was  convicted. 
Maybe  the  lesson  and  the  scare  would  be  all  she  needed 
to  pull  her  back  into  lawful  living.  She  was  not  a 
hardened  adventuress;  why,  she  couldn't  be  much  over 
twenty-one  or  two!  After  a  while,  when  she  had 
straightened  up,  maybe  .  .  . 

So  Starr  thought  and  thought,  fighting  to  keep  a 
little  hope  alive,  to  see  a  little  gleam  of  light  in  the 
blackness  of  his  soul.  His  head  bent,  his  eyes  staring 
unseeingly  at  the  yellow-brown  dust  of  the  trail,  he  rode 
along  unconscious  of  everything  save  the  battle  raging 
fiercely  within.  He  did  not  know  what  pace  Eabbit 
was  taking;  he  even  forgot  that  he  was  on  Rabbit's 
back.  He  did  not  know  that  his  duty  as  a  man  and 
his  man's  love  were  fighting  the  fiercest  battle  of  his 


TAKES  ANOTHER  PRISONER    303 

life,  or  if  he  did,  he  never  thought  to  call  it  a  battle. 

There  had  been  one  black  night  in  the  cabin  —  the 
night  before  this  last  one,  it  was  —  when  he  had  con 
sidered  for  a  while  how  he  might  smuggle  Helen  May 
out  of  the  country,  suppressing  the  fact  of  her  complic 
ity.  He  planned  just  how  he  could  put  her  on  a  train 
and  "  shoot  her  to  Los  Angeles/'  as  he  worded  it  to 
himself.  How  she  could  take  a  boat  there  for  Van 
couver,  and  how  he  could  hold  back  developments  here 
until  he  knew  she  was  safe.  He  figured  the  approxi 
mate  cost  and  the  hole  it  would  make  in  his  little  sav 
ings  account.  He  thought  of  everything,  even  to  mar 
rying  her  before  she  left,  so  that  he  could  not  be  com 
pelled  to  testify  against  her,  in  case  she  was  caught. 

He  had  dozed  afterwards,  and  had  dreamed  that  he 
put  his  plan  to  the  test  of  reality.  He  had  married 
Helen  May  and  taken  her  himself  to  Los  Angeles. 
But  there  had  not  been  money  enough  for  him  to  go 
any  farther,  and  his  chief  had  wired  him  peremptorily 
to  return  and  arrest  the  leaders  of  the  Alliance  and  all 
connected  with  it.  So  he  had  bought  a  steerage  ticket 
for  Helen  May  and  put  her  aboard  the  boat,  where 
she  must  herd  with  a  lot  of  leering  Chinamen.  He  had 
stood  on  the  pier  and  watched  the  boat  swing  out  and 
nose  its  way  to  the  open  sea,  and  a  submarine  had  tor 
pedoed  it  when  it  had  sailed  beyond  the  three-mile 


304       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

limit  off  the  coast,  so  he  could  not  go  after  her.  He 
was  just  taking  off  his  coat  to  try  it,  anyway,  when  he 
awoke. 

That  was  all  the  good  his  sleep  had  done  him :  set  him 
upright  in  bed  with  a  cold  sweat  on  his  face  and  his 
hands  shaking.  But  the  reaction  from  that  nightmare 
had  been  complete,  and  Starr  had  not  again  planned 
how  he  might  dodge  his  plain  duty.  But  he  kept  think 
ing  around  and  around  the  subject  for  all  that,  as  though 
he  could  not  give  up  entirely  the  hope  of  being  able  to 
save  her  somehow. 

He  did  not  know,  until  he  passed  the  corral,  that  he 
was  already  in  Sunlight  Basin,  and  that  the  house 
stood  just  up  the  slope  before  him.  Eabbit  must 
have  taken  it  for  granted  that  Starr  was  bound  for  this 
place  and  so  had  kept  the  trail  of  his  own  accord,  for 
Starr  could  not  remember  turning  from  the  main  road. 
He  did  not  even  know  that  he  had  passed  not  more  than 
a  hundred  yards  from  Vic  and  the  goats,  and  that  Vic 
had  shouted  "  hello  "  to  him. 

He  took  a  long  breath  when  he  glanced  up  and  saw 
the  house  so  close,  but  he  did  not  attempt  to  dodge  or 
even  delay  the  final  tragedy  of  his  mission.  He  let 
Rabbit  keep  straight  on.  And  when  the  horse  stopped 
before  the  closed  front  door,  Starr  slid  off  and  walked, 
like  a  tired  old  man,  to  the  door  and  knocked. 


TAKES  ANOTHER  PRISONER    305 

Helen  May  had  been  washing  the  breakfast  dishes, 
and  Starr  heard  the  muffled  sound  of  her  high-heeled 
slippers  clicking  over  the  bare  floor  for  a  minute  be 
fore  she  came  into  the  front  room  and  opened  the  door. 
She  had  a  dish  towel  over  her  right  arm,  opening  the 
door  with  her  left.  Starr  knew  that  the  dish  towel 
was  merely  a  covering  for  her  six-shooter,  and  his  heart 
hardened  a  little  at  that  fresh  reminder  of  her  pre 
paredness  and  her  guile. 

"  Why,  good  morning,  desert  man,"  she  said  brightly, 
after  the  first  little  start  of  surprise.  "  Come  on  in. 
The  coffee's  fine  this  morning ;  and  I  just  had  a  hunch 
I'd  better  not  throw  it  out  for  a  while  yet.  There's  a 
little  waffle  batter  left,  too." 

Starr  had  choked  down  a  cup  of  coffee  and  a  sand 
wich  at  the  station  lunch  counter  before  he  left  San 
Bonito,  and  he  was  glad  now  that  he  was  not  hungry. 
He  stepped  inside,  but  he  did  not  smile  back  at  Helen 
May ;  nor  could  he  have  accepted  her  hospitality  to  save 
himself  from  starvation.  He  felt  enough  like  Judas 
as  it  was. 

"  Don't  put  down  your  gun  yet,"  he  said  abruptly, 
standing  beside  the  door  with  his  hat  in  his  hand,  as 
though  his  visit  would  be  very  short.  "  You  can  shoot 
me  if  you  want  to,  but  that's  about  all  the  leeway  I  can 
give  you.  I  rounded  up  the  revolution  leaders  last 


306       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

night.  They're  likely  at  Fort  Bliss  by  now,  so  you 
can  take  your  choice  between  handing  me  a  bullet,  or 
going  along  with  me  to  Fort  Bliss.  Because  if  I  live, 
that's  where  I'll  have  to  take  you.  And,"  he  added  as 
an  afterthought,  "  I  don't  care  much  which  it  is." 

Helen  May  stood  with  her  chin  tilted  down,  and 
stared  at  him  from  under  her  eyebrows.  She  did  not 
speak  for  a  minute,  and  Starr  leaned  back  against  the 
closed  door  with  his  arms  folded  negligently  and  his  hat 
dangling  from  one  hand,  waiting  her  decision.  He 
stared  back  at  her,  somberly  apathetic.  He  had  spoken 
the  simple  truth  when  he  said  he  did  not  care  which  she 
decided  to  do.  He  had  come  to  the  limit  of  suffering, 
it  seemed  to  him.  He  could  look  into  her  tawny  brown 
eyes  now  without  any  emotion  whatever. 

"  You  don't  smell  drunk,"  said  Helen  May  suddenly 
and  very  bluntly,  "  and  you  don't  look  crazy.  What  is 
the  matter  with  you,  Starr  of  the  desert  ?  Is  this  a 
joke,  or  what  ?  " 

"  It  didn't  strike  me  as  any  joke,"  Starr  told  her 
passionlessly.  "  Thirteen  of  them  I  rounded  up.  Hoi- 
man  Sommers  was  the  head  of  the  whole  thing.  Elfigo 
Apodaca  is  in  jail,  held  for  the  shooting  of  Estan  Me 
dina.  Luis  Medina  is  in  jail  too,  held  as  a  witness 
and  to  keep  Apodaca's  men  from  killing  him  before 
he  can  testify  in  court.  I  hated  to  see  the  kid  tangled 


TAKES  ANOTHER  PRISONER    307 

up  with  it  —  and  I  hate  to  see  you  in  it.,  But  that 
don't  give  me  any  license  to  let  you  off.  You're  under 
arrest.  I'm  a  Secret  Service  man,  sent  here  to  prevent 
the  revolution  that's  been  brewing  all  spring  and  sum 
mer.  I  guess  I've  done  it,  all  right."  He  stared  at 
her  with  growing  bitterness  in  his  eyes.  His  hurt  be 
gan  dully  to  ache  again.  "  Helen  May,  what  in  God's 
name  did  you  tangle  up  with  'em  for  ?  "  he  flashed  in  a 
sudden  passion  of  grief  and  reproach. 

Helen  May's  chin  squared  a  little;  but  she  who  had 
not  screamed  when  she  found  her  father  dead  in  his 
bed;  she  who  had  read  his  letter  without  whimpering 
held  her  voice  quiet  now,  though  womanlike  she  an 
swered  Starr's  question  with  another. 

"What  makes  you  think  I  am  tangled  up  with  it? 
What  reason  have  you  got  for  connecting  me  with  such 
a  thing?" 

A  stain  of  anger  reddened  Starr's  cheek  bones,  that 
had  been  pale.  "What  reason?  Well,  I'll  tell  you. 
In  the  office  of  Las  Nuevas,  in  that  little,  inside  room 
with  the  door  opening  out  of  a  closet  to  hide  it,  where 
I  got  my  first  real  clue,  I  found  two  sheets  of  paper 
with  some  strong  revolutionary  stuff  written  in  English. 
Also  I  found  a  pamphlet  where  the  same  stuff  had  been 
printed  in  Spanish.  I  kept  that  writing,  and  I  kept 
the  pamphlet.  I've  got  it  now.  I'd  know  the  writing 


308       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

anywhere  I  saw  it,  and  I  saw  a  sample  of  it  here  in  this 
very  room,  when  the  wind  blew  those  papers  off  your 
desk." 

"  You  —  in  this  room !  "  Helen  May  caught  her 
breath.  "Why  —  why,  you  couldn't  have!  I  never 
wrote  any  revolution  stuff  in  my  life !  Why  —  I  don't 
know  the  first  thing  about  Las  Nuevas,  as  you  call  it. 
How  could  my  writing  —  ?  "  She  caught  her  breath 
again,  for  she  remembered. 

"  Why,  Starr  of  the  desert,  that  was  Holman  Som- 
mers'  writing  you  saw !  I  remember  now.  Some  pages 
of  his  manuscript  blew  off  the  desk  when  you  were  here. 
See,  I  can  show  you  a  whole  pile  of  it !  "  She  ran  to 
the  desk,  Starr  following  her  mechanically.  "  See  ? 
All  kinds  of  scientific  junk  that  he  wanted  typed.  Isn't 
that  the  writing  you  meant  ?  Isn't  it  ?  "  Her  hands 
trembled  so  that  the  papers  she  held  close  to  Starr's 
face  shook,  but  Starr  recognized  the  same  symmetrical, 
hard-to-read  chirography. 

"  Yes,  that's  it."  His  voice  was  so  husky  that  she 
could  hardly  hear  him.  He  moistened  his  lips,  that 
had  gone  dry.  Was  it  possible  ?  His  mind  kept  ask 
ing  over  and  over. 

"  And  here !  I  don't  ask  you  to  take  my  word  for 
it  —  I  know  that  just  those  pages  don't  prove  any 
thing,  because  I  might  have  written  that  stuff  myself  — 


TAKES  ANOTHER  PRISONER    309 

if  I  knew  enough!  But  here's  a  lot  that  he  sent  over 
by  the  stage  driver  yesterday.  I  haven't  even  opened 
it  yet.  You  can  see  the  same  handwriting  in  the  ad 
dress,  can't  you  ?  And  if  he  has  written  a  note  —  he 
does  sometimes  —  and  signed  it  —  he  always  signs  his 
name  in  full  —  why,  that  will  be  proof,  won't  it  ? " 
Her  eyes  burned  into  his  and  steadied  a  little  his  whirl 
ing  thoughts. 

"  Open  it,  desert  man !  Open  it,  and  see  if  there's 
a  note !  And  you  can  ask  the  stage  driver,  if  you  don't 
believe  me ;  here,  break  the  string !  " 

She  was  now  more  eager  than  he  to  see  what  was  in 
side  the  wrapping  of  newspaper.  "  See  ?  That's  an 
El  Paso  paper  —  and  I  don't  take  anything  but  the 
Times  from  Los  Angeles !  Oh,  goody !  There  is  a 
note !  You  read  it,  Starr.  Read  it  out  loud.  If  that 
doesn't  convince  you,  why  —  why  I  can  prove  by 
Vic—" 

Starr  had  unfolded  the  sheet  of  tablet  paper,  and 
Helen  May  interrupted  herself  to  listen.  Starr's  voice 
was  uneven,  husky  when  he  tried  to  control  the  quiver 
in  it.  And  this  he  read,  in  the  handwriting  of  which 
he  had  such  bitter  knowledge : 

My  Dear  Miss  Stevenson: 

I  am  enclosing  herewith  a  part  of  Chapter  Two, 
which  I  have  revised  considerably  and  beg  you  to  retype 


310       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

for  me.  If  you  have  no  asterisk  sign  upon  your  ma 
chine,  will  you  be  so  kind  as  to  make  use  of  the  period 
sign  to  indicate  a  break  in  the  context  of  the  quotations 
from  the  various  authors  whom  I  have  cited? 

I  wish  to  inform  you  that  I  am  deeply  sorry  to  place 
this  extra  burden  of  work  upon  you,  and  also  assure 
you  that  I  am  more  than  delighted  with  the  care  you 
have  exercised  in  deciphering  correctly  my  most  abom- 
niable  chirography. 

May  I  also  suggest,  with  all  due  respect  to  your  in 
telligence  and  with  a  keen  appreciation  of  the  potent 
influences  of  youth  and  romance  upon  even  the  drudg 
ery  of  an  amanuensis,  that  in  writing  "  stars  of  the 
universe  "  in  a  scientific  document,  the  connotation  is 
marred  somewhat  when  stars  is  spelled  "  Starr's." 
Very  apologetically  your  friend, 

SOMMEKS. 


It  took  several  seconds  for  the  full  significance  of  that 
last  paragraph  to  sink  into  minds  so  absorbed  with  an 
other  matter.  But  when  it  did  sink  in  — 

"  Oh-h  !  "  gasped  Helen  May,  and  backed  a  step,  her 
face  the  color  of  a  red  hollyhock. 

Starr  looked  up  from  reading  those  pregnant  words 
a  second  time  to  himself.  He  reached  out  and  caught 
Helen  May  by  her  two  shoulders. 

"  Did  you  do  that  ?  "  he  whispered  impellingly. 
"  Did  you  spell  my  name  into  that  man's  manuscript  ?  " 

"No,  I  didn't!  I  don't  believe  I  did  —  I  never 
noticed  —  well,  even  if  I  did,  that  doesn't  mean  —  ANY- 
THING."  I  hope  the  printers  will  set  that  anything  in 


TAKES  ANOTHER  PRISONER    311 

their  very  smallest  type,  just  to  show  you  how  weak  and 
futile  and  scarcely  audible  and  absolutely  unconvinc 
ing  the  word  sounded.  For  one  reason,  Helen  May 
did  not  have  much  breath  to  say  it  with;  and  for  an 
other  reason,  she  knew  there  was  not  much  use  in  say 
ing  it. 

Helen  May,  sitting  unabashed  on  Starr's  lap,  with 
an  arm  around  his  neck  and  her  head  on  his  shoulder, 
with  her  dish  towel  and  gun  lying  just  where  she  had 
dropped  them  on  the  floor  some  time  before,  took 
Peter's  last  letter  from  Starr's  fingers  and  drew  it  ten 
derly  down  along  her  cheek. 

"  I  only  wish  you  could  have  known  dad,"  she  said 
with  a  gentle  melancholy  that  was  a  great  deal  light 
ened  by  her  present  happiness.  "  He  wasn't  at  all 
striking  on  the  surface;  he  was  so  quiet  and  so  un 
assuming.  But  he  was  just  the  dearest  and  the  brav 
est  man  —  and  when  I  think  what  he  did  for  me.  ..." 

"  I  know  he  was  dear  and  brave ;  I  can  judge  by  his 
daughter."  Starr  reached  up  and  prisoned  hand  and 
letter  together  and  held  them  against  his  lips.  "  Seems 
like  a  nightmare  now  that  I  ever  thought —  And  to 
think  I  headed  out  here  to  .  .  ." 

"  Well,  I  am  your  prisoner."  Helen  May  answered 
that  part  of  the  sentence  which  Starr  had  left  un- 


312       STARR,  OF  THE  DESERT 

spoken.  "  Listen,  desert  man  o'  mine.  I  —  I  want 
to  be  your  prisoner  forever  and  ever  and  ever !  " 

"  You  won't  get  anything  less  than  a  life  sentence, 
lady!  And—" 

"  Hully  gosh !  "  Vic,  bursting  open  the  door  just 
in  the  middle  of  a  kiss,  skidded  precipitately  through  to 
the  kitchen.  "  Fade  out !  "  he  advised  himself  as  he 
went.  "  But  say !  When  you  get  around  to  it,  I'd 
like  something  to  eat,  Helen  Blazes ! " 


THE   END 


STIRRING    STORIES   OF  THE  WEST 
By  B.  M.  BOWER 


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3537  iSiaciair,  Jte.  Bortha  (Muzzy)j  1874-19UO. 

9  "          Starr,  of  the  desert,  by  B.  M.  Bower  &8eud.}  with 

tispiece  by  Monte  Crews.    Boston,  Little,  Brown,  and 

pany,  1917. 

3  p.  1.,  S12  p.,  1  1.    front.    !»*«•.       $1.35 


L  Title. 

Library  of  Congrett 
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17— I 


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